


Calm Yourself And Breathe

by PrincePri



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime), ユーリ!!! on ICE
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alternate Universe, Awkwardness, Chaptered, DJ Otabek Altin, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Music, Singer Yuri, Slow Build, Song - Freeform, Songs, careers, lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-02 20:25:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10952091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincePri/pseuds/PrincePri
Summary: From: DJALTINOFFICIALSubject: CongratulationsTo Mr. Yuratchka Plisetsky,We are contacting you to congratulate the fact that you are one of the 10 who have been chosen to re-audition to collaborate with DJ Altin.-Yurio is a young man, aspiring to be a singer and struggling to pay his rent. When his favourite DJ - Otabek Altin - opens auditions for a collaboration, he decides it won't hurt to give it a shot. What he didn't decide was the feelings he would catch for the famous musician.-Part of the OtaYuri reverse bang, started on Tumblr by @YoiShelter! This story was created by both me and the wonderful artist on Tumblr, @altinkalpli! Their art is linked below: https://68.media.tumblr.com/1afc8f6f50115f5b5922fea6565c7a36/tumblr_messaging_oqbnd4l7YU1u9vwp6_1280.jpgand I hope you enjoy it! It was also proof read by the super helpful @mikiri on Tumblr!





	1. Auditions - Open!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, make sure to check out our Tumblr pages! ^^  
> Me - http://oliverthesailor.tumblr.com/  
> Artist - https://altinkalpli.tumblr.com/  
> Beta - http://mikiri.tumblr.com/
> 
> Songs used do not belong to me, all credit to original artists!  
> Songs used (in order): Shut up and Dance (Walk the Moon) / Shelter (Madeon and Porter Robinson) / This is Gospel (Panic! at the Disco) / Nearly Witches (Panic! at the Disco) / Scared to be Lonely (Martin Garrix & Dua Lipa) / History Maker (DJ-Jo remix) / Arashi no Rhapsody (Zetsun no Tempest) / Thnks Fr Th Mmrs (Fall Out Boy) / Pay no Mind (Madeon ft. Passion Pit).
> 
> PLAYLIST: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLri6rIZzLSTty0gDx8ah-RpPbi1v3WP-s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Yurio needs money.

Sifting the few coins and notes in his cold hands, a young man sighed, sorting the green paper into the right compartment in the till. As he did so, he felt his heavy eyelids droop a little - he hadn’t slept well the previous night due to loud noises in his lowly apartment. Glancing around with his cyan eyes half closed, he examined the stuffy little corner shop in which he earned a small, sad amount of money, that was just barely enough to keep him fed. Homemade wooden shelves, stacked with groceries and household items, lined the walls, little paper prices displayed in front of each object for all customers to see.

 

Surprising the young man in his sleepy stance, another man emerged from the office behind the shop and placed a hand gently on his shoulder, sweet smile friendly and concerned. He asked, “Hey, Yurio, you feeling okay today? You seem awfully tired.” It was Yuuri Katsuki, the owner of the corner shop. Yurio sighed again, turning his head slightly to make eye contact with Yuuri.

 

“I just had a bad night, nothing worth bothering you.” His voice came out a mumble, before he broke into a cat-like yawn.

 

Yuuri crossed his arms, going into mother-mode. “Yurio, are you still in that apartment?” He asked, worry lacing his tone. Yurio turned away, looking to the clock above the shop door; the roman numerals stared back it him, telling him that his shift was, in fact, over, and he could leave whenever he pleased.

 

“What is it to you?” He muttered to Yuuri, untying his uniform apron and handing it over to the shop owner. “I can’t leave that shitty place. I haven’t got any spare money.”

 

“Well…” Yuuri said, face flushing a bit at the obvious jab that he didn’t pay Yurio too well, “tonight Vitya is looking for someone to do singing at his place. Would you want to for a bit of extra cash?” Yurio perked up, eyes shining a little at the suggestion.

 

“Yes, tell him I’ll do it. I’ll be there at eight.”

 

-

 

So, at exactly 7:53pm, Yurio showed up at the pub that retired skating star Viktor Nikiforov owned, guitar case slung over one shoulder, music book under his arm. Yurio made his way around the back, seeing Viktor sweeping away leaves from the back entrance, and held up a hand in silent greeting.

 

“Hey, Viktor!” He called, catching the Russian man’s attention, “Katsudon told me you were looking for a singer tonight.” Leaning the broom against the wall, Viktor flashed Yurio his classic grin, beckoning him to enter the pub. Once the two were inside, Viktor spoke.

 

“Yuuri told me you’d be here! I’m glad you could make it. Luckily, there are a lot of customers today, so more people will enjoy your beautiful voice!” Yurio felt his face heat at the compliment, and quickly flicked his blonde locks in front of his eyes, shoving Viktor out of the way in order to set up his stuff next to the bar. The pool table had been cleared away in order to make a space for him to perform, so he grabbed a stool and unzipped his guitar case, searching through his music notes to find the perfect song.

 

Clearing his voice a little, Yurio leant forward to the microphone, his lips a few centimetres away from the black cross hatched surface, and spoke, his usual rough tone softened to appeal to the adult audience in front of him. “Thanks for joining me tonight, ladies and gents. I'll start the night off with one of my favourites-” Quickly, Yurio checked the tuning on his guitar, and, once he was content, began to strum the strings.

 

Delicately, his fingers caressed the thin wires on the guitar, and a gentle acoustic song began, notes perfectly in tune. Yurio took a short breath, sitting up straighter, before starting to sing:

“I could never find the right way to tell you, have you noticed I’ve been gone?” 

 

There was still some chatter in the pub, but Yurio noticed Viktor with his friend, Chris, sat behind the bar, gazing upon him with proud eyes. As he continued, more of his audience fell silent to listen.

 

“Because I left behind the home that you made me, but I will carry it along.” Silence now, everyone was listening. Yurio tried to tune out from the audience - they made him nervous. Not that he’d ever show it, of course.

 

“And it’s a long way forward, but trust in me. I’ll bring them shelter like you’ve done for me. I know, I’m not alone. You’ll be watching over us, until we’re gone.” Flying across the strings, his finger tips hurt from the friction, but he ignored the slight burning pain, absorbed in his song.

 

After another verse and a more dramatic chorus, the song, Shelter, originally by Porter Robinson and Madeon, was over. The audience clapped, and one or two people even whistled. Yurio gave the audience a curt nod, still unable to deal with the complimentary way in which they applauded him. Quickly, he picked up his music book, and found his second song of the night. 

 

Before he started his next song, he noted another few familiar faces had appeared in the pub. Yuuri and Phichit, his best friend, had arrived. Yuuri was already standing with Viktor, the Russian man’s arm drooped over his fiancé’s shoulder, whilst Phichit had his phone out, ready to record Yurio’s next performance. Hiding his face with his hair, Yurio looked away from them all, but then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Chris. The Swiss man held a cup of water out for Yurio, and gave him a quick wink. “Drink before you sing again; don’t want your throat to dry up!” He clapped Yurio on the back, and then returned to his friends.

 

The young blond took a few gulps of water, preparing his next song. He did a test strum, before clearing his throat once more. Then he began the song; it was one of Yurio’s favourites.

 

“Oh don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me. I said ‘you’re holding back!’ She said ‘shut up, and dance with me!’ This woman is my destiny, she said, oh, oh, shut up and dance with me.” Perfectly in rhythm, he began to tap his foot on the wooden floor, enjoying the music, as were the audience. He continued like this, and performed another two songs, before looking to the clock and deciding he’d done enough.

 

Everyone clapped as Yurio took a short bow, before rushing off behind the bar with Viktor and the others. As he packed away his guitar and music, the tall silver-haired man came over, notes in hand. “Here you go, Yurio. Thank you for the wonderful performance!” He thrust the money towards the younger boy, who took it needingly.

 

“I’ll perform again whenever you want.” He said, simply, standing and hoisting his music case over one shoulder. “Later, Vitya.”

 

Like an Autumn bouquet, the sky was slowly being dyed deep amber and indigo, the colours melting into one another, as if they were made for the sole reason of mixing. Shaded clouds rolled towards the nearly set sun, yearning for it’s light, and the moon was on the opposite horizon, climbing steadily to the peak of the sky. Yurio sighed, his breath forming a silvery swirl, which rose and evaporated to join the clouds above.

 

As he headed home to his tacky apartment, Yurio stopped to glance at the notice board outside Viktor’s pub. Nothing interested him, but as he turned to leave, a certain flyer caught his eye.

 

_ “Auditions = open! _

_ Ever dreamed of performing in front of thousands? _

_ Ever dreamed of performing with a celebrity? _

_ Ever dreamed of having hundreds of fans? _

_ If so, it’s your lucky day! _

_ Otabek Altin, popular DJ, is looking for a singer to join him in concert! _

_ But hurry - auditions end on the final day of the month!” _

 

Beneath the slogans, a telephone number and address was typed in small, black print. Dubious about the whole thing, Yurio took out his phone and snapped a picture of the poster, before pocketing the device. Not much point to it, really. Thousands would sign up. But… there was always a chance, right? Giving a nonchalant shrug, the young man turned and continued to walk towards the sunset, his hands buried in the warm pockets of his hoodie.

 


	2. If You Love Me, Let Me Go!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yurio auditions.

Boiling hot, hungry, and genuinely uncomfortable, Yurio lay in his bed, all of his clothes twisted in the wrong direction, his hair a matted mess in his face. After the little performance he did the previous day, he had blacked out as soon as he arrived home, not even getting changed before falling into a deep sleep. Now, after waking, he realised how he should have eaten before sleeping and changed into something a little less warm. His back was aching from the bad position he was laying in, Yurio sat up, multiple bones clicking as he did so. Letting out a groan, he stood, stretching his arms high above his head, and bending to touch his toes. Still overheated, he slipped off the hoodie and stripped off his multiple layers of shirts and jumpers, before leaning over to the window and yanking it open. He relished the cool air gliding over his bare chest and tangling with his hair, kissing his face and making his discomfort reduce greatly. Grabbing all of his worn clothes, he chucked them into the laundry basket before ambling to his kitchen to get some breakfast, a yawn seeping from his mouth.

 

In need of coffee, Yurio turned on the kettle and leaned on the kitchen counter whilst he waited for the water to boil. Absentmindedly, he took his phone out of his trouser pocket and went onto Instagram, looking through recent posts. He saw Phichit had uploaded a video of his performance from the previous day, as well as Viktor, who had uploaded a photograph of Yurio mid-song, his eyes closed and face peaceful. The young blond shook his head, a little embarrassed at how he looked, and quickly scrolled past. Then, he saw something that triggered a memory from last night.

 

DJ-Altin-Official posted 50 minutes ago:

_ “Auditions for a collaboration with DJ Otabek Altin are open starting today! _

_ Anyone age 18+ can participate! Find your nearest audition!” _

 

Yurio left the Instagram app, going into his photos and finding the picture of the flyer he took yesterday. Pinching his screen, he zoomed in on the contact information, and wrote down the phone number. The kettle boiled as his dialed the number, hands a little shaky. He would never admit it, but Yurio had a fear of speaking to people on the phone. He was so nervous that he would make mistakes and embarrass himself.

 

A few times, the phone rang, before a voice emitted from the other side. It was a woman. “Hello, this is the number for Otabek Altin audition enquiries. Can I help you?”

 

“Um... yes, hi.” Yurio mumbled, awkwardly, “I’m ringing to ask where I can audition.”

 

“Ah, where?” She said, and he heard her sorting through some papers. “Sir, if I can have your address then I can tell you which audition place is nearest to you.”

 

“Alright, my address is 43, Gilford Road.” He told her, his nervousness subsiding a little at her friendly tone. 

 

He heard typing, then: “Okie dokie, thank you sir. The nearest place to you is Abbie Road Studios.” She went on to give him directions, which he hastily scribbled down, before she got another phone call and left. Yurio breathed out deeply, looking at the messy piece of paper in his hand.

 

He was really going to try.

 

-

 

All he’d brought to the audition was a bottle of water and his phone.

 

Taking a gulp of the cool, refreshing liquid, Yurio let out a breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Today, he’d gone for a slightly more formal outfit, considering he was at an audition: a navy hoodie with black sleeves that turned into fingerless gloves, complemented with ripped black jeans and some fairly feminine boots. He had the hood down, of course; he didn’t want to appear too dark and gloomy.

 

Judging from the instructions the woman on the phone had given him, Yurio suspected that he was very close to Abbie Road Studios. Looking around, he noticed how clear and opaque the sky looked, a dazzling bright blue colour. Not a single cloud dotted the freshly painted sky, but the edges of it were pricked by tall trees. The fresh air calmed Yurio as he continued down the road, before stopping in front of a towering red-brick building with multiple balconies and white painted windows: Abbie Road Studios.

 

Lots of people were milling around outside, taking pictures and chatting and sitting on benches and eating. Yurio pushed past a few girls, who were giggling and taking pictures of their friends, and proceeded to make his way into the building. Upon entering, he saw the inside was nothing like the old-fashioned exterior. Modern wooden decor was spread throughout, and all the walls were painted bridal white. The ceiling was decorated with lyrics to popular songs, and many canvases containing song lyrics were hung on the walls. The small windows did not offer much natural light, so small spotlights were implemented in the artistic ceiling, brightening the place much more.

 

There was a woman and a man at the desk, so Yurio decided to go and tell them why he was here and ask for directions to the studio. As he approached, the woman looked up. She had dark olive, a sheet of long, sable hair and large violet eyes. “Good morning, how can I help you?” She asked, tone friendly. Yurio showed her the piece of paper with directions on.

 

“I’m here for the Otabek Altin auditions.” He said, bluntly. Unlike his nervous talking on the phone, Yurio was assertive and straightforward in reality, and sometimes a little rude.

 

“Yes, that’s fine.” She smiled, clicking something on her computer. “The auditions are in Studio Three, which is up a floor.” The young Russian gave a curt nod, turning on his heel and heading up the nearest flight of wooden stairs. _ Click, click, click _ went his boots on the boards as he made his way up a story, before arriving at a long corridor. Slowly, he strolled along, analyzing each door.

 

_ Studio Two, The Gatehouse- Studio Three! _

 

Tentatively, he knocked twice, before the door was whipped open by a tall man with an angular face and jade eyes. Compared to Yurio, he was huge! Probably about 6 feet tall, Yurio thought.

 

“Hello young man!” He boomed, giving the short blond a shock. “Are you here for DJ-Altin’s auditions?”

 

“Yes…” Yurio responded, a little awestruck at this man’s presence. He was radiating loudness - was that even possible?

 

“Come right in! We’ve got a queue of people right now but there’s always room for more. I’m Celestino Cialdini, one of Mr. Altin’s staff.” Yurio gave no reply, slinking into the room, like a cat, past Celestino and joining the small crowd of participants. 

 

In the room, there was a variety of people. Firstly, three people at a table, each with notebooks and dressed formally: A woman, pale skinned and freckles, with large aquamarine eyes and short red hair. She was very beautiful and looked mature, Yurio thought, but not his type. Next to her was a stern looking man with fluffy, jet black hair and thick eyebrows. Finally, there was an empty seat for Celestino, who closed the door and went and sat down next to the black haired man. The redhead clapped, getting attention from the participants of the audition.

 

“Welcome today, guys!” She said, standing to introduce herself. “I’m Mila Babicheva, DJ Altin’s secretary. This is his producer, Mr. Seung-Gil Lee, and this is Mr. Celestino, DJ Altin’s assistant. Today, we will all be listening to your auditions for a collaboration with DJ Altin. I wish you all the best of luck!” Her voice was familiar to Yurio, and he recognised her as the woman he spoke to on the phone for directions. Interesting.

 

“Alright!” Mila called. “First contestant, step forward!”

 

-

 

Yurio had been last to enter the room, so he auditioned last, of course. First up was a pleasant woman with an okay voice and a nice smile; none of the judges seemed crazy about her. Next, there was a tall, lanky man with a beard. His voice was perhaps one of the most unique Yurio had ever heard, but only Celestino showed interest. It went on like this, person after person auditioning and leaving to wait in the lounge outside, until, finally, it was Yurio’s turn. He approached the microphone with slight hesitation, considering backing out there and then. Shrugging, he grabbed the microphone, making direct eye contact with the middle judge - Mr. Seung-Gil Lee.

 

“I’m Yuri Plisetsky.” He introduced himself as. “Today I’ll sing “ _ This is Gospel _ ”, by  _ Panic! At the Disco _ .” Mila nodded, and the people in the sound control room watched as Yurio plugged his phone into the speaker in the room. It took him a moment, but he found the instrumental sound and pressed play. The young blond breathed in deeply, making sure his legs would shoulder-width apart, and his posture was good. When he was a younger boy, he’d had singing lessons in order to train his voice to have a large vocal range, so he knew how to best stand for the best results.

 

The song began.

 

“This is gospel, for the fallen ones, locked away in permanent slumber. Assembling their philosophies, from pieces of broken memories.” His voice came out much more confidently than he’d expected, much to his delight. He gripped the microphone stand, swaying on his feet a little. “Oh, woah oh.” The ‘woah’ parts of the song were always what threw him off - he liked to sing lyrics, not a bunch of slurred nonsense. But, he persevered, and the results were satisfactory. And now, the song was approaching the chorus:

 

“Their gnashing teeth, and criminal tongues, conspire against the odds. But they haven’t seen the best of us yet…”

 

The build up was over.

 

“If you love me let me go~” He sang, getting more and more into the song as it went on, now virtually oblivious to the three judges watching him. ‘Go’ held such a lengthy note in this song, so Yurio had made sure to inhale a deep breath beforehand and use all his power to perfect the note. It worked. His voice was clear and crisp and confident as Yurio blared out the chorus, and he found himself enjoying it thoroughly.

 

“‘Cause these words are knives that often leave scars, the fear of falling apart! Truth be told, I never was yours! The fear, this fear of falling apart.”

 

Regaining his breath, Yurio calmed his mind, imagining he was just back in Viktor’s pub playing some simple songs for an easily-impressed audience. He imagined he was at home, singing to himself late at night. The song continued.

 

“This is gospel, for the vagabonds, ne’er-do-wells and insufferable bastards. Confessing their apostasies, led away by imperfect impostors.” More ‘woah; parts, which Yurio was growing used to by now. Suddenly, he realised the next part was the huge finale. This was where he could really flaunt his skills and make a big impression. Summoning all his vocal power and courage, Yurio felt himself glowing inside; it was one of those moments where he knew he could do well, he just had to work hard to do so. Also, this was his favourite part of the song, so he’d practised it the most.

 

“Don’t try to sleep through the end of the world…” Yurio’s voice had gotten lower, soft and silky and smooth. It was the type of voice that you imagine being used on a romantic date, or perhaps at a proposal. “Bury me alive.” The notes climbed higher. “‘Cause I won’t give up without a fight.” A pause. The instrumental stopped, as did Yurio. 

 

And then:

 

“If you love me, let me go!” The emotion from the song flowed through the young boy’s words, washing over the audience, as if an entire ocean had been poured on them. “If you love me, let me-” Yurio sang this part as Brendon Urie did originally, but then decided to create his own perfect harmony on the next word. “-Go, ohh, oha!” His voice rose against the music, like a tidal wave crashing against a cliff face. “‘Cause these words are knives that often leave scars, the fear of falling apart!” Slowly, the world began to reappear as Yurio tuned back into reality. “Truth be told, I never was yours. The fear, the fear of falling apart.” 

 

He finished the song off with more ‘woah’-ing, and then finally: “The fear. The fear of falling apart.”

 

Yurio opened his turquoise eyes. All three judges were silent, none of them were writing in their notebooks, all three simply stared. Celestino and Mila shared a quick glance, before Seung-Gil raised his hands and began to clap. Looking at him in shock, the other two were speechless. Yurio was left, heavily breathing into the microphone, confused and wondering if he’d messed up or not.

 

“That was incredible, young man!” Celestino exclaimed, clapping along with Seung-Gil. 

 

“Beautiful vocals.” Mila nodded, a smile forming on her thin lips. “I liked that one.” She said, simply, before scribbling down something and dismissing Yurio. “Thank you for your time, sir. We hope to see you again.”

 

Yurio nodded, letting go of the microphone stand and shoving his hands into his pockets as he exited the room. That went… well? He thought so, anyway.

 

-

 

A man stood in the sound control room, leaning on the table, his headphones silent around his neck.

 

All the auditions had been good, he thought, because everyone had clearly put in a lot of effort. However, as usual, one stood out above the rest. He was short, and had long blonde hair. At first, the man had thought he was a girl.  _ Panic! At the Disco _ were his chosen band, and ‘ _ This is Gospel _ ’ was the song - what an emotional choice.

 

“What’s his name?” He asked one of the soundboard workers.

 

“You’ll have to ask Mila.” The worker responded as the blond boy left the studio. The three judges stood, turning and walking up to the sound control room.

 

“I liked the last one.” Seung-Gil said. “Choose him.”

 

“My favourites were the second one and the last one.” Added Celestino, animated and excited.

 

“What do you think, Mila?” Asked the man with the headphones. Mila gave a chuckle.

 

“I think I know who you’re going to choose.”

 

-

 

“Ah, Yurio!” Smiled Yuuri, clapping his hands. “How did your audition go yesterday?”

 

It was Monday, another day of boring work at Yuuri’s corner shop. Yurio shrugged, sliding behind the counter and pulling his apron over his head. Some birds tweeted outside, the weak sunlight coating the streets of London in a thin layer.

 

“It went okay.” His voice was a little hoarse from the singing yesterday - he had forgotten to warm up his voice box before the audition.

 

“That’s all?” Yuuri asked, obviously disappointed at the bluntness of his response. “Nothing super exciting?”

 

“Well… the judges clapped for me.” Yurio mumbled. “But they did that for everyone.” Yuuri leant on the counter, forcing Yurio to make eye contact with him.

 

“And?” Yuuri coaxed, wanting to hear more.

 

“And one of them said they hope to see me again.” 

 

Yuuri stood straight, clapping vigorously. “Amazing! I bet they really liked you! Now, we shouldn’t be too busy today, so feel free to relax a bit more. I’ll go get us some drinks. Juice?”

 

“Sure.” Yurio replied, hoisting himself up to sit on the counter. Whipping out his phone, he began to scroll through Instagram, hoping to see anything related to Otabek Altin’s auditions. Just as he expected, there was plenty about it. Then, he came to DJ-Altin-official:

 

_ “Thank you to all those who auditioned! _

_ We had approximately 400,000 participants!” _

 

Yurio’s heart sank. That many?

 

_ “Keep an eye out for our 10 winners, all of whom will be asked to re-audition on a set date. _

_ We will choose our top 10 by Friday.” _

 

Putting down his phone, the Russian boy stared out of the window. Tall wooden fence, painted a mint green and ruining the scenery, ran in front of the shop window, the blue sky not at all matching the horrendous, unnatural green. Wispy clouds scattered themselves, looking like white cotton candy sweetening the sky, whilst the sun glowed like a jewel, hurting Yurio’s eyes.

 

He just had to wait until Friday.

 

-

 

Friday rolled around.

 

Yurio had been anxious all week, and he had no idea why. Probably the suspense of waiting for the results of the auditions, he thought. The day started as usual, with Yurio standing and stretching and sighing and going to make himself toast. Checking the clock, which was mounted on the wall above his door, the young man realised he’d slept in today - it was currently 10:45am - so he decided to skip breakfast and have brunch instead. Putting some toast in the toaster, he took butter out of the fridge, as well as a banana from the small decorative fruit bowl, which sat atop his microwave. Yurio was one of those strange people - he liked banana on toast, especially with Nutella. Whilst he waited for the toast to pop up, he leant against the kitchen counter, flicking through social media on his phone. As he sent his Snapchat streaks to Yuuri, Viktor, Phichit, Georgi and Mila, he noticed a new story had been posted by DJ-Otabek-Official. Oh right - today was Friday, results were going to be revealed. With a knot in his stomach, Yurio clicked the story, and it flashed up on screen:

 

_ Top 10 have been chosen! Check your emails, those who auditioned! _

 

Biting his lip a little too hard, Yurio switched to his mail tab. Emails came in as usual: spam, twitter notifications, facebook (which he never used) notifications, and a few from Viktor and Phichit. As he scrolled through and deleted the unnecessary ones, an email caught his eye.

 

_ From: DJALTINOFFICIAL _

_ Subject: Congratulations _

_ To Mr. Yuri Plisetsky, _

_ We are contacting you to congratulate the fact that you are one of the 10 who have been chosen to audition again in order to collaborate with DJ Altin. These callbacks take place next Friday, a week from now. If you have any issues coming to the auditions, please contact us on the following numbers: _

 

_ Mila Babicheva: 0100-000-000 _

_ Celestino Cialdini: 8888-880-800 _

_ Seung-Gil Lee: 4444-3434-3434 _

 

_ We will be choosing our favourite audition the following Sunday. Please prepare well. _

_ Sent from DJALTINOFFICAL.org _

 

Yurio just about passed out. His toast popped up, he dropped his phone and slid down the counter until he was sat on the floor, letting the news sink in.

 

He was one of 400,000 people. He was in the top ten.  _ He had a chance. _

 

Suddenly, it hit him. He had to tell Yuuri, Viktor, Phichit, Chris - everyone! At the speed of light, he picked up his abandoned phone, flicking to iMessage and sending a text to the group chat all of them shared. Keeping it simple, he said:

 

**_Yurio [10:55am]:_ ** _ Guys, I’ve been chosen as one of the top ten auditions for DJ Altin’s thing. I might win. _

 

Unsurprisingly, responses came quickly, most of them in all capitals:

 

**_Phichit [10:57am]:_ ** _ OMG OMG OMGOMGOMGOMGO YURIIOOOO I’M SO PROUD IM GONNA BE FRIENDS WITH A CELEBRITY YTYOTIOREFMDF (σ'∀')σ*。・゜+.* _

 

**_Katsudon [10:58am]:_ ** _ Oh my goodness Yurio I’m so proud of you! You’re so talented I’m sure you’ll be number one  <3 _

 

**_Idiot [10:59am]_ ** _ YUUUUUUURIIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO(⋟﹏⋞) _

 

**_Idiot [10:59am]_ ** _ YUUUUUUUURIIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO （ｉДｉ） _

 

**_Idiot [11:00am]_ ** _ I’M SO HAPPY COME AND GIVE ME A HUG (つ´∀｀)つ _

 

**_Yurio [11:02am]_ ** _ Shut up, idiot. I’m gonna win and make you even prouder. _

 

With a small smile, the young man shut his phone off, standing and stretching. He’d make it through this week with a grin on his face, eager for Friday to come.

 


	3. Bubble Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a song is written and bubble tea is ordered.

The week passed by in a blur, with Yurio kept high on adrenaline and a sense of anxiety and excitement mixing within him, growing stronger as Friday approached. Work as usual in Yuuri’s shop did little to distract him, and he made far too many mistakes to be considered normal; luckily, the Japanese shop owner forgave him generously, knowing how excited Yurio must be for his next audition. Honestly, Yuuri had never felt prouder of someone in his life. Before, he was a figure skater, but retired at age 28, a year ago. Now, with plenty money in the bank and his famous husband Viktor, Yuuri comfortably owned a little shop. However, despite being one of the top skaters in the world, Yuuri was still more proud of Yurio now than he was of himself at his career’s peak.

 

At long last, Friday arrived -  _ it sure took it’s time _ \- Yurio thought. There he was, outside Abbie Road Studios, with only his phone and a bottle of water to accompany him. Trying not to let any nerves build up, the blond walked inside, going to the desk and being directed to a different studio this time - the Penthouse studio. With a spring in his step, Yurio ascended the stairs at the pace of a cheetah, finally making his way to the top floor, where the same man, Celestino Cialdini, waited for the ten auditioners. Beaming, he welcomed Yurio once more, clapping him roughly on the back before directing him into the Penthouse studio. Behind him, Yurio saw another person, a girl, being welcomed too. Right, he still had a chance of losing, his win wasn’t definite. But he was going to give it his all.

 

Deciding at the last moment, the weather had turned unpleasant, and now rain tapped the window impatiently, ruining the top-floor view. Not that Yurio cared, he had his mind on other things right now. Unintentionally tense, he took a seat on a leather arm chair, where another four of the contestants were waiting anxiously. After 20 minutes, 9 of them had arrived, and the judges decided they would wait no longer. Shrugging his huge shoulders, Celestino boomed “If they didn’t check their email, there’s nothing we can do! No one else is granted access now.” He flicked a ‘in use’ sign on the door, so no one could interrupt the coming auditions. 

 

The other two judges were here again, and the stern Korean man - Seung-Gil - stood and began to speak: “Welcome again. Today the nine of you will try again to audition for Mr. Altin. The results for number one will be out on Sunday, at the latest. First up, we have Miss. Jasmine Aaron.” The woman stood, looking fairly confident.

 

“We’re performing with the other auditioners, sir?” She asked, voice not wavering once. Seung-Gil shook his head, as if she were being stupid.

 

“Of course not, you’ll be going there,” he pointed to a door, leading into a private recording suite, “and being judged by someone else.” Miss. Jasmine Aaron nodded, leaving the room.

 

_ Damn it, why am I the final one to audition, again? _ Yurio thought, looking at the list on the staffs’ desk. Then, he realised, it was his surname: Plisetsky. The others all had surnames before his in the alphabet. Sitting in silence, he scowled, thinking about which song he would sing. Another one by Panic! At the Disco, he decided, because he liked their music a lot. Finally, he settled on the idea of “Nearly Witches”: it would stretch his vocal range and let him show off different styles of singing. Time ticked on and on, and every time someone finished their audition, they came out looking ashen-faced and nearly dead. This set Yurio on edge, to say the least. By the time he was meant to audition, he was just as pale and shaky as all the others, and his throat had never felt so dry. Taking a gulp of water, he stood and made his way inside the private studio, checking his phone was silenced. He had a good luck text from Yuuri, Chris and Viktor, which boosted his confidence a little.

 

When he walked through that door, his heart stopped.

 

Right there, sat on his desk with a notebook in hand, was the famous Otabek Altin. He was incredibly fashionable, with slicked back hair, a few loose strands framing his angular face, and a neatly shaved undercut; with a sky-blue denim jacket over a white shirt with the word “SING” printed on it; with tight black dress trousers running down his legs; and with large combat boots, which  _ clunked _ against the desk as he tapped his foot. 

 

He looked up as Yurio entered, and did not offer a smile, but a brisk nod, and a short speech. “I’m Otabek Altin, I’ll be judging you today. Best of luck.”

 

Now Yurio realised why everyone looked dead when they left.

 

Otabek was  _ gorgeous _ .

 

Feeling his white face return to colour (probably more colour than he’d like, actually) Yurio walked, if a little stiffly, to the centre of the room, where a microphone stand was placed. Trying his best to avoid eye-contact, for fear of breaking down, he mumbled his introduction. “I’m Yuri Plisetsky. I’m going to sing ‘Nearly Witches’ by Panic! at the Disco.” Otabek nodded, flicking through a list of songs before finding the correct instrument and playing it. As the familiar music started, Yurio took a deep breath.

 

“Dès le premier jour, ton parfum enivra mon amour.” Otabek watched him intensely, eyes unblinking; Yurio felt some pressure, but ignored it, trying to lose himself in the music. “Et dans ces instants. J’aimerais ȇtre comme toi par moments.” Whilst French was not his first language, or his second, or third, in fact, Yurio knew these words off by heart, and was confident in his pronounciation of them. “Mais depuis ce jour. Je n’ai qu’un seul et unique regret…” Then, it started. The song began to play the incredible instrumental, quiet, stealthy, and snaking its way into Yurio’s mind, wrapping tightly around his senses, absorbing him in the sound. By now, he’d begun to forget that Otabek Altin was even in the room, and he was ready to pour his soul into the song.

 

Brendon Urie’s voice echoed in Yurio’s head as he mimicked the singer, starting off with a strong voice. “My wingtips waltz across naïve, wood floors, they creak, innocently down the stairs. Drag-” He drew out the ‘a’ on ‘drag’, letting his voice waver similar to the original singer’s. “-melody, my percussive feet serve cobweb headaches as a-” he took a breath, keeping his legs shoulder-width apart and standing straight, “matching set of marching clocks, the slumbering apparitions that they’ve come to wake up.” Thinking about it, the lyrics barely made sense, yet made perfect sense at the same time. How did feet serve cobweb headaches? What did that even mean? 

 

Now, the next line was Yurio’s favourite, and he was ultimately tempted to sing it in an incredibly petty feminine voice, but restrained for fear of not winning the audition. “Here I am composing a burlesque, out of where they rest their necks, sunken in their splintered cradles.” He guessed that meant a broken bed, right? “And ramshackle heads, they asked for it. As a girl.” 

 

The next section of the song was more breathy and dramatic, so Yurio changed his tone to be airy and light. “You have set your heart on haunting me forever, from the start, it’s never silent.” Honestly, Yurio was enjoying this. By now Otabek was not writing in his notebook, which lay forgotten on his desk, but staring intently at the young Russian performing in front of him.

 

-

 

_ He’s talented. _

 

The thought resounded in his head as Otabek watched Yuratchka Plisetsky, who was absorbed in the song, dancing around and singing in front of him. There was a vibe coming from this contestant, and Otabek had noticed it when he’d seen him perform the first time. Not that the auditioners knew it, but Otabek had been in the control room in the original auditions, keeping an eye out for anyone who struck him as particularly amazing. He’d been travelling all over London, picking out his favourite ten, and debating at home who to choose. The only option, of course, was a second audition.

 

Though, Otabek already knew who would win.

 

Yuri Plisetsky sang the chorus.

 

-

 

“Ever since we met, I only shoot up with your perfume.” Just as in the first audition, Yurio’s voice was almost perfect, despite minor flaws that all un-autotuned human has. The main thing was his attitude - he was having a great time, flaunting his skills of his favourite artist. “It’s the only thing that makes me feel as good as you do. Ever since we met, I’ve got just one regret to live through, and that one regret is you.”

 

Suddenly, Yurio opened his eyes, which he had closed prior to the chorus, and stared straight back at Otabek, furrowing his brows the tiniest bit as the instrumental blared. Then: “How does a heart love if no one has noticed its presence and where does it go?” He didn’t break eye contact. “Trembling hands play my heart like a drum, but the beat’s gotten lost in the show.”

 

The pre-chorus repeated, as did Yurio. Now, he really just wanted to show off in some way. Luckily, the next chorus was a little different, with a part that Yurio could change up to match his own expectations. “Ever since we met, I only shoot up with your perfume. It’s the only thing that makes me feel as good as you do. Ever since we met, I’ve got just one regret to live through…”

 

The music stopped for a moment, and Yurio embraced the drama.

 

“And I regret never letting you know!” His voice got louder and a little higher, like a mirror of the original, but with a rougher, harder tone. The chorus repeated, and Yurio sang it confidently, his throat becoming raspy and sore. Finally, it was over. The song ended, the music died, Yurio breathed out in relief. Then, it hit him. Otabek Altin was in fact sat opposite him, and had not once taken his eyes of Yurio the entire performance. Nervous, but not about to show it, Yurio let go of the mic stand and glanced from Otabek to the door. He half wanted to leave, to have it over with, but he was also desperate to stay. After what seemed like an eternity, Otabek spoke.

 

“Congratulations.”

 

Yurio raised a brow, trying not to scowl. “Huh?” He mentally scolded himself for the stupid response.

 

“I said congratulations.” the DJ repeated. “You’ve won.”

 

Yurio stared at him blankly. “HUUUUUUUHHHHH?!”

 

-

 

Now he was outside with Otabek and the three staff members: Mila, Celestino and Seung-Gil. The woman, Mila, gave a smirk, laughing. “I knew you’d choose him from the start, Mr. Altin.” Otabek blinked, before turning to Seung-Gil.

 

“Contact the other nine and tell them they’ve not made it. Give my apologies.” The Korean man nodded, turning on his heel to go and write emails in the lounge. Celestino clapped Yurio on the back once more. “I had a feeling you’d win, kid.” 

 

Yurio glowered at him. “I’m 21.”

 

“Really? You look like you’re 13!”

 

“He wouldn’t have been allowed to compete if he were 13.” Mila chipped into the conversation. “And does what he look like matter? He’s pretty cute if you ask me!” She gave a sickeningly sweet smile, and Yurio couldn’t tell if it was a compliment or not, so he averted his gaze awkwardly. 

 

Otabek took out his phone, before speaking to Celestino and Mila.

 

“Could you two please go and tell the receptionists we’ve finished, they need to reopen the studio as soon as possible.” The two staff members nodded, turning and leaving. Mila gave Yurio a wink as she exited, which left Yurio uncomfortable and confused. Suddenly, Otabek said his name. “Yuri…” He turned.

 

“You may not want to call me Yuri.” He said, bluntly. “My boss and friend is Yuuri, too, so people confuse us. Everyone calls me Yurio, but I don’t like that name.”

 

“Will I be meeting Yuuri?” Otabek asked, out of nowhere.

 

“Probably, if we’re going to practise a lot.”

 

“Yes, I’ll be coming to where you live a lot from now on to discuss things with you. I need to be able to contact you at all times.”

 

“Yeah...” Yurio agreed, as Otabek explained how they had a month to write three songs and practise them. They needed to work together as frequently as possible.

 

“Seeing as Yuuri is your boss, I will need his permission to take you out of work frequently.”

 

“Oh... okay, sure.” Yurio responded, deciding he wouldn’t mind getting out of work sometimes. 

 

Then, Otabek continued. “Therefore, I’ll call you Yura so I don’t confuse the two of you.” Yuri’s eyes widened a little - the only person who called him Yura was his grandpa, but he didn’t mind it being used more often.

 

“Alright.” He concluded, as Otabek unlocked his phone.

 

“I also need your phone number in order to contact you at any time.”

 

“Sure, it’s this-” Yurio said, reciting his own number to Otabek and getting his in return. Just then, Mila returned.

 

“Mr. Altin, the car is waiting outside.” She looked to Yurio. “It’s been nice to meet you, I suspect we will talk a lot more from now on.” She smiled, beckoning Otabek to hurry up, which he did.

 

“I’ll contact you later on about where we can meet tomorrow to start work.”

 

“‘K.”

 

“Goodbye.”

 

“Bye.”

 

And Otabek was gone. 

 

Dazed, Yurio walked out of the studio and down to reception, where he signed out of the building. He walked toward home slowly, and then decided to instead go to Viktor’s pub. Yuuri and Chris would definitely be there, and he bet Phichit had gone along too; he needed to see them after what had just happened.

 

As he entered the pub, he was met with a bone crushing hug from Chris, and heard Viktor sobbing in the background, and a cheer from Yuuri and Phichit.

 

“Congratulations, Yuri!” Chris sang, his Swiss accent noticeable, “We are all so proud of you!”

 

“Yurio, we’re so happy!” Yuuri exclaimed, offering Yurio a hug. Although he really did want a hug, Yurio just rolled his eyes, keeping up his usual façade, before shoving past and into the bar, where Viktor screamed.

 

“YURIO! I can’t believe it! You have to get DJ-Altin to play here sometime!”

 

“Yeah right, Viktor. Just cause I got the job doesn’t mean he’ll do what I say. He’s technically my boss.”

 

“I’m taking it you’ll be quitting work at the shop?” Yuuri smiled, a little sadly, but Yurio waved his hands around fervently.

 

“No, no. I’m keeping the job. You just gotta be lenient with my shifts, okay?” Yuuri perked up, giving Yurio a grin.

 

Phichit turned to Yurio, holding out his lime green phone and pulling a peace sign. “Yurio! Smile, this is going on Instagram!”

 

-

 

Otabek had not been lying when he said he’d contact Yurio quickly, because now the young Russian was on his way to a nearby cafe with a notebook in his bag, and apparently the famous musician was already waiting for him. A little flustered, he jogged halfway there, and entered, face tinged pink from the exercise and hair messily tied up. It wasn’t hard to spot Otabek.

 

With a pen in hand, he was writing notes on bars, tapping his fingers on the desk, his scarf hung over the back of his chair. The table he’d chosen was in a corner, and his back faced the entrance, so anyone walking in couldn’t see his face - except, Yurio knew it was him, because he was expecting him there.

 

“M-morning.” He muttered as he approached, slinging his bag onto the chair opposite Otabek, whose head shot up. The DJ nodded, offering a welcoming gaze, but no smile; strange, he hadn’t smiled once, which irked Yurio a little, if he was honest.

 

“Good morning, I’ve written down some ideas. I’m guessing you read music?”   
  


“Yeah, I do.”

 

“Good, can you check this over for me?” He asked, sliding the paper across to Yurio as a waitress came to take their orders. Unsurprisingly, Otabek asked for a black coffee, whereas Yurio chose a sweet bubble tea. After their drinks were brought to them, Yurio took some change from his pocket, but was pleasantly surprised when Otabek handed the waitress a five pound note, with the solemn words ‘keep the change’. Putting his few coins back in his jacket, Yurio sipped his drink, reading the music and imagining it in his head.

 

“Am I supposed to just nod at this, or can I add stuff?” He asked, realising how rude he must sound, but, Otabek seemed to not notice (or he just didn’t care) and waved a hand, nodding at Yurio to go on. Hesitantly, Yurio took the ink pen from in front of Otabek, and began to write some notes around the notes, jotting down some other bits and bobs. When he handed it back, the DJ scanned it, his brows raising a little as he complimented the work, causing Yurio’s face to heat up.

 

“Anyway.” Otabek said, sliding the paper in his bag. “I wanted to talk to you a bit today.

 

“Okay, why?” Blunted Yurio.

 

“Because, we’re working together now. We should try and get to know each other a little, don’t you think?”

 

Yurio hadn’t thought that, not at all. Never in one million years would the blond have considered such a famous and talented man being the least bit interested in anything to do with him, never mind actually suggesting they become closer. However, he lied. “Yeah, I guess you make a good point.” A few seconds of silence, Yurio squirmed in his seat.

 

“So, what type of music do you like, Yura?” The mention of his new nickname made him shiver, but Yurio stayed composed.

 

“Anything, really. I just like things that I can sing well. My favourite artist is Brendon Urie.”

 

“I guessed.” Otabek chuckled, but still, he didn’t smile. “If you knew who I was, I’m supposing you like more techno music, too?”

 

“Yes.” Realising that he had all of Otabek’s albums on his phone, Yurio felt his face heat up again. Why was this happening?

 

Ok, so maybe Yurio had always kind of, maybe, a little bit had a crush on Otabek - well, not on him, but on his music. Did that even make sense? He looked up to the type of music the DJ created, and had always dreamed of being able to do it himself, one day. He dreamed of making people laugh, cry, dance, and sing to tunes he created, to lyrics he wrote. And now, right here, he was sat with the man who had made Yurio do all those things a hundred times before.

 

“And you like bubble tea?”

 

“I do.”

 

“What flavour?” Otabek asked, eyes inquisitive. It felt stupid, talking to such an inspiration about the plainest topic possible - tea.

 

“Peach is my preference. But, banana is good too.”

 

“And, you mentioned another Yuri before? Your boss?”

 

“Yep, it’s spelt with two ‘u’ letters, unlike mine. He works at a corner shop and I was a cashier there - anything to pay my rent, really.”

 

“You’re struggling financially?”

 

“I wouldn’t put it that way…” Yurio started, not wanting to cause money issues already. Sure, he was in this for cash, too, but mainly because of singing. He didn’t want Otabek to think otherwise. The musician didn’t seem to take the lie, but let it slip nonetheless, nodding slowly.

 

“Who else is in your family or friends circle?” Otabek asked, leaning forward, crossing his arms to support him. Unintentionally, Yurio backed into his seat a little further, before responding.

 

“Viktor Nikiforov, famous skating professional. He owns a bar near my flat, so I spend most my time there; sometimes I put on little performances for the people there.”

 

“Amazing, I’d like to see it.” Otabek commented, and Yurio shook his head violently.

 

“No, no need. It’s not my best singing, honestly, it’s not worth wasting time to see.”

 

“Judging by your auditions, all your singing is good.” Not good with compliments, Yurio buried his face in his hands.

 

“Look, sorry, can you just, not compliment me? Please?” The blond begged, not making eye contact.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I don’t know how to respond.”

“Just say ‘thank you’.” Yurio peeked through his fingers.

 

“Thank you.” His voice came out quieter than he expected.

 

Otabek laughed, face breaking into a smile. Yurio might have died a little bit, on the inside.

 

-

 

It became regular: going for drinks, going for walks, going to studios and writing away. Sometimes, the two of them didn’t even spoke, they just wrote, listened to music, and suggested songs for the other to hear. But, a week passed, and things started coming together, and quickly, but that wasn’t surprising - they only had one month to write and practise three songs, so Yurio, at the same time as enjoyment, felt a mild, bubbling sense of anxiety. One day, a Wednesday, the two of them were at a park, as the day had brought heat, and the sun cast down warm golden rays, soaking the two men in yellow light. Yurio was struggling with lyrics - they’d written the music for one of the songs already, but how did he write words to it? Yurio had never composed before, only sang other people’s creations.

 

“Um, Otabek-” He began, leaning over to the older of the two, “-can you help me with this song?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Okay, so, I know how the tune goes, it’s like:” Yurio hummed the tune quickly, “And so, I wonder what theme we should go with?”

 

“Hmm… perhaps we could go for a cliche, but add a twist?”

 

“How?”

 

“So, choose a regular topic, that a lot of people sing about.” Yurio gulped, seeing Otabek’s chocolate eyes bore into his very soul, though, in a calming, interesting way.

 

“Love.” He uttered, voice almost cracking.

 

“Right.” Otabek agreed, unaffected by Yurio’s strange tone. “So, write something about love, and then twist it around.” The Russian didn’t speak, but gave a weak nod, scribbling some things down.

 

_ It was great at the very start. _

_ Couldn’t stand to be apart. _

 

Otabek glanced over, nodding, a twinkle in his usual solemn gaze. “Try adding something risque in.”

 

“ _ E-excuse me _ ?”

 

“The audience love slightly suggestive lyrics, just put something vague, like…” He took the notepad, adding some lines between the ones Yurio had written.

 

_ It was great at the very start. _

_ Hands on each other. _

_ Couldn’t stand to be far apart. _

_ Closer the better. _

 

“How’s that?”

 

“Good.” Yurio agreed, taking back the notepad. With those simple lines, Otabek had twisted the top of Yurio’s ‘creativity tap’, and now the ideas were flowing freely, splashing on the pages and staining it forever.

 

_ Now, we’re picking fights and slamming doors. _

_ Magnifying all our floors. _

_ And I wonder why, wonder what for _

_ Why we keep coming back for more _ .

 

“Nice work.” Otabek gave him a brief thumbs up, and Yurio couldn’t help but snicker. The DJ looked confused, tilting his head in the most  _ adorable _ way, as if to ask ‘ _ what _ ?’

 

“A thumbs up? Is that what we’re doing now?”

 

“I don’t see why not.”

 

“Okay, how about a secret code kinda thing?” Yurio suggested, half joking. Being as serious as usual, Otabek nodded, asking what type of code. This put Yurio on the spot, to say the least.

 

“Uhh… well, we could say a word and give thumbs up before a gig when we’re ready, and just to… you know… check that the other is okay and ready to start and stuff.”

 

“Which word?”

 

“My native country is Russia, and the word ‘davai’ means, ‘come on!’ or ‘sure!’, so we could use that?”

 

“I like it- davai, davai, davai…” Otabek mumbled, testing the word on his tongue. Yurio laughed again.

 

“Anyway, let’s get on with the song. I’m stuck on the chorus.” Otabek took the pad and pencil, pouting for a moment, before frantically writing down:

 

_ Is it just our bodies? Are we both losing our minds? _

_ Is the only reason you’re holding me tonight _

_ ‘Cause we’re scared to be lonely? _

_ Do we need somebody just to feel like we’re alright? _

_ Is the only reason you’re holding me tonight _

_ ‘Cause we’re scared to be lonely? _

 

And then he stopped, looking up to the sky and closing his eyes. It was a beautiful sight, in Yurio’s humble opinion, and some stupid temptation within him made Yurio take out his cellphone and snap a quick picture. Seemingly, the world wasn’t on his side, and the picture made a loud clicking sound, jerking Otabek out of his sem-daydream. Yurio blushed. “I was just- I mean, just… You’re famous and I just- you know, it was… Uh.” Otabek smiled softly.

 

“It’s fine, I don’t mind. You wanted it for Instagram or something, right?”

 

“Uh- yes, yeah I did.”

 

“Okay.” He returned to his sleepy trance, leaving Yurio huddled in a ball, burning from head to toe. After a while, the sun hid itself behind clouds, and the two decided that was enough for the day, bidding farewell and returning to their own homes.

 

-

 

Two days later, Friday, Yurio had a meeting with Otabek. Well, it wasn’t exactly a ‘meeting’, it was just like all their other meetups, except, this time his staff would be there. Not that it bothered Yurio, of course. As he arrived at the office-like building, he was given a pass at reception and told to go to room 89, on the eighth floor. 

 

Carrying a pile of notebooks, Yurio ascended, using the lift, and eventually found his way. Confident, he knocked, entering the room, only to see Otabek and his secretary - the woman, Mila - in deep conversation. She looked… weird. Her physical appearance was the same as usual - wine red bob, curled at the ends, pale skin with freckles dotted like stars, pointy black shoes, black pencil skirt, white blouse - but her eyes showed a different emotion, one that Yurio could not put his finger on. As he entered, her eyes darted to him, the strange emotion dying as soon as he interrupted. She smiled, beckoning for him to sit with them. Feeling a little less confident, Yurio took the seat on the other side of Otabek, and saw Mila’s brow twitch slightly as the DJ turned and greeted him in a friendly manner.

 

“Anyway, Mr. Altin-” she continued, whilst Yuri, albeit uncomfortably, took out his biggest notebook, “-I was wondering what you felt about lunch tomorrow?”

 

“Lunch?” He questioned, blinking twice. 

 

“Yes, coming out for lunch with me.” Yurio looked up, his gaze settling on Mila.

 

“Alright. We can start discussing ideas for the gig at the end of the month. Maybe Yura should accompany us, he needs to make some decisions about it, too.”

 

“I- what?” Mila stuttered, and Yurio felt his eyes widen at Otabek’s pure  _ obliviousness _ . She was _ obviously _ asking him on a date, and he was treating it like a work appointment!

 

“He’s very good at coming up with ideas.” Otabek concluded, as if settling the matter. Sighing deeply, Mila forced a smile.

 

“Okay, Yurio, Mr. Altin and I will meet you at the ‘Blues Cafè’ tomorrow at twelve.”

 

“Sure…” the blond mumbled, flicking through the pages of his notebook, trying to ignore the somewhat awkward atmosphere. Suddenly, Otabek struck up conversation with Yurio, asking about the song lyrics.

 

“Oh, they’re going well.” Yurio assured him, picking up a smaller notebook and finding the right page, showing it to him. Yurio managed to complete most of their first song the previous day on his shift at the corner shop. A smile formed on Otabek’s face, and he read the words out quietly.

 

“ _ Too much time, losing track of us. _

_ Where was the real? _

_ Undefined, spiraling out of touch, _

_ Forgot how it feels _ .” 

 

Otabek skipped the repeated chorus, finding the ‘bridge’ (the alternative part at the end of a song):

 

“ _ Even when we know it’s wrong, _

_ Been somebody better for us all along. _

_ Tell me, how can we keep holding on? _

_ Holding on tonight, ‘cause we’re scared to be lonely _ .”

 

Mila clapped delicately, giving Yurio a genuine grin.

 

“Good lyrics, I bet your performance will be incredible.” She complimented, causing Yurio to fumble over his words and turn a darker shade of pink, which made her laugh as she stood, clapping him on the back once before turning to Otabek.

 

“Do either of you want drinks? I’m going to go to the shop down the road.”

 

“Yes, please.” Otabek said, continuing to write. Mila rolled her eyes, turning to look expectantly at the blond man.

 

“I’ll have a bubble tea, please.” He said. When she left, Otabek glanced up, and then back down.

 

“I think this song is done. Could you sing it for me?”

 

“Okay, starting here?” Yuratchka asked, pointing to the first bar. The DJ nodded, sitting with his hands on his lap, waiting for Yurio to sing.

 

Tumbling over his lips, as waterfalls tumble over rocks, the lyrics were sang, Yurio’s voice softer than usual and more dramatic. Though, this was just a practise, and Otabek stopped him twice in order to correct a note he didn’t like. Overall, it worked fairly well, and by the time Mila returned, they’d succeeded in completing the song.

 

“A coffee-” she said, passing it to Otabek, who took it graciously, “-and a bubble tea.” She passed it to the singer, who looked at it for a moment, seeing she had got him strawberry flavour. Sure, he liked any of them, but strawberry was his least favourite. Trying to hide his disappointment, Yurio thanked her, taking a sip of the extraordinarily sweet tea, and almost retching on the candy-like flavour. This went unnoticed by Mila, but he saw Otabek snicker into his coffee, and lightly punched the DJ on the arm. This second action, however, did not go unnoticed by Mila, who looked incredibly put off.

 

Minutes turned to hours, and, before long, they’d rehearsed the whole song several times. Mila checked the clock, standing.

 

“My work hours are over, so I’m heading home. Otabek, I recommend you do the same.”

 

“I will, Mila, don’t worry. I want to discuss some things with Yura, first.” She grimaced at the nickname, but nodded, exiting the building as quickly as someone in heels could. Otabek turned to his shorter musical partner, expression friendly.

 

“So, any ideas for a second song?”

 

“Yes, actually.” Yurio went on to tell him about the rhythm and tune he’d begun to develop, and they ended up staying an extra forty minutes, writing bits and pieces here and there. When Yurio gave a wide yawn, Otabek suggested they go home, and the blond, though reluctantly, agreed.

 

As they walked down the street, the night sky a dotted pattern above their heads, Yurio noticed once again just how stunning Otabek was. With his head tilted back, eyes reflecting the cosmos above, he really looked like a dream, and Yurio found himself staring long and hard as they made their way down the road, until the point where they turned off from one another.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Otabek said, as Yuratchka tore his gaze away, faster than lightning.

 

“Yeah, tomorrow, twelve.” Yuri gave a confirming nod, turning on his heel and leaving.

 

Upon arriving home, Yurio didn’t even bother to flick on the lights as he threw himself onto his bed, taking out his phone and thinking for a second, before texting Phichit.

 

**_Yurio [9:33pm]:_ ** _ Hey, Phi, I need advice. _

 

A few moments later, the Thai boy responded:

 

**_Phichit [9:34pm]_ ** _ Sure!! What’s the prob, Yurio? _

 

**_Yurio [9:36pm]_ ** _ Have you ever liked anyone before? _

 

**_Phichit [9:36pm]_ ** _ Hell yeah, why do you ask?? _

 

**_Yurio [9:37pm]_ ** _ Idk, just on my mind. _

 

A few minutes passed.

 

**_Phichit [9:40pm]_ ** _ I used to like Yuuri. We were together for a bit before Viktor came along. Not that I mind, though. Viktor’s perfect for him <3 _

 

This came as a slight shock to Yurio, but he shook his head, typing a fast response:

 

**_Yurio [9:41pm]_ ** _ How do you know, though?? How can you tell who you like? How are you so… Open about it?! _

 

**_Phichit [9:42]_ ** _ You know bc your face gets all hot!!! And they seem to stand out, nothing else is important. Every moment you spend with them is like heaven, and memories stick like super glue! _

 

**_Yurio [9:44pm]_ ** _ Lol, nice metaphor there. _

 

**_Phichit [9:44pm]_ ** _ Lololol, sorry Yurio, I’m gonna get to bed, see you soon  <3 _

 

Clicking off his phone, the young Russian man flipped onto his back, eyes wide as he stared blankly at the white, slightly cracked ceiling above. Did he like Otabek? From what Phichit had said, it seemed like it…

 

He shook his head, wisps of fair hair caressing his face as he did so. Otabek was his work partner, and maybe they could consider themselves friends, but he definitely did not like the DJ. He just admired his music, that was all. A little soothed by this thought, Yurio plugged his phone into charge, took off his hoodie and fell asleep within moments.


	4. Born To Make History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yurio is confused and Viktor gives advice.

For once, Yurio was early.

 

Like a beautiful sapphire, the sky arched above, deep, opaque blue dying the clouds and the light from the glowing sun. A gentle breeze drifted through the streets of London, making the trees and grass wave softly in time with the beat of the Earth. The blond was stood outside the Blue’s Cafe that Mila had mentioned the previous day, and it wasn’t long before he saw the redhead and the DJ approaching; Yurio couldn’t help but to notice how close Mila stood to Otabek, but, as they arrived he tore his gaze from the tiny gap between them and cast his eyes to their faces.

 

“Morning, Yura.” Otabek greeted, taking a few broad steps in order to meet him before Mila did. His secretary hurried, back beside him in a mere moment.

 

“Hi Yurio!” She smiled, eyes closing momentarily as she did so. She wore casual attire, for once, despite this technically being a work meetup: a black tank top, a cropped denim jacket and some white capris. Though, Yurio was the same, and not in formal wear, to say the least. He was dressed in a white shirt, black stripes up till his armpits, and one pocket on the chest, along with plain grey jean and white sneakers.

 

“Hi.” Came his usual blunt response. He didn’t say it shyly or timidly, just flatly; greetings just weren’t really his forte. The three of them entered the cafe, which was sweet and small: the walls were painted periwinkle, and lantern lights dotted the cafe, the candles unlit due to the sun pouring through the large, open french windows. As well as this, beige wooden floorboards lined the ground, a blue and orange, patterned rug thrown in front of the doorway to prevent mud getting on the floor; the windows had wispy, translucent curtains flowing in front of them, dying some of the natural light the colour of the ocean. Smiling again, Mila linked her arm with an unresponsive Otabek’s, pointing to a table in the corner with a sofa seat and some stools.

 

“How about there?” She asked, and Yurio nodded, agreeing with her choice. Something bugged him, and he didn’t know if it was how she clung to the DJ or how said musician did not respond in the slightest - was he completely oblivious? Or, was he doing it purposefully? Yurio didn’t know, and he did not want to think about it, so he pushed the intrusive thoughts to the back of his busy mind, making his way over to the corner of the calm cafe, followed by Mila and Otabek. Yurio sat on the sofa seat, preferring the plush, cerulean cushions to the hard, wooden stools. Much to his surprise, Mila sat next to him, and Otabek took one of the stools, leaning his arms on the table and glancing around, wonder in his eyes.

 

“I’ve never been here before. Mila, why didn’t you tell me about this place?”

 

“Oh, I only heard of it from Sala the other day. This is my first time coming here, too!”

 

“Ah.” He muttered, head turning to look out of the window. Yurio couldn’t help but peer at Otabek through his long fringe, the strands of hair cutting out bits of the DJ from his vision; he shifted in his seat slightly, so that, through the blond blind, he could see Otabek’s face, peacefully staring out of the window to the bustling city streets, his lips tilted upwards, but only the tiniest bit. Slowly, Yurio breathed out, so loudly, in fact, that Otabek’s gaze flickered from the outdoors to the Russian man, hazel irises meeting with turquoise ones. Feeling himself blush, Yurio pushed his fringe out of his face, wishing he’d tied it up, or clipped it back. Next to him, Mila moved, and he saw her hold a hand out, hairpin between her fingers.

 

“Need this?” She asked, voice kind, which surprised Yurio a little - he thought they weren’t too friendly with one another, but perhaps he had judged wrongly. Thanking her quietly, he took the black pin, pushing his fringe back behind his ear and attempting to clip it in place - some of it fell out immediately, as he couldn’t see the side of his head. Mila chuckled, taking the pin back from him. “Come here, gosh.” She said lightly, biting her tongue as she carefully rearranged Yurio’s hair and clipped it up behind his ear. “There we go, now you can actually see!”

 

“Thanks, Mila.” He said, attempting a smile and failing miserably. This got another laugh from the woman, who clapped him on the back.

 

“You’re the worst, Yurio, you can’t even smile at a pretty lady!” He gave her a short glare, raising a brow.

 

“Who said you were pretty?” He teased, of course, not meaning what he said. Luckily, she took it jokingly, feigning hurt. 

 

Just then, the waiter came over. He was short, with fluffy, chestnut hair and big, shining eyes and a rose-dusted nose. Voice fairly soft, he spoke: “Hello, welcome to the Blue’s Cafe, can I take your order?” He wore a nametag, which said ‘Guang-Hong’ on it; that’s why his accent wasn’t British, he must be Chinese, Yurio thought whilst Otabek asked for an Earl Grey tea and ordered a Greek salad. Mila selected the vegan option: chickpea and onion salad, and Yurio went for tea sandwiches and a glass of fresh apple juice. Smiling, the waiter noted their orders, leaving them to resume conversation.

 

“So.” Otabek started, turning to face the man and woman opposite him. “About the gig. Today is the 24th of February, which means we have exactly two weeks left until the gig on March 10th. We need to start coming up with plans for the venue, song order, instruments and whatnot. Mila, have you sorted anything so far?” The redhead leaned on her hand, blinking a few times.

 

“Yes, I’ve contacted the venue - it’s a big concert venue called the Royal Festival Hall.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve seen Jean-Jaques perform there before. It’s a wonderful venue.” Otabek responded, seeming satisfied. “Yura, where do you live?”

 

“Why?” Yurio asked, not really liking the idea of giving his address to these two - what if they came to pester him about work?

 

“Because, if your home is too far away from the venue, we’ll need to get a hotel for the night before.”

 

“Oh right. I live in a flat near Wembley.”

 

“That’s no good.” Mila informed. “You’ll have to get a hotel, like Otabek suggested.” That was the first time Yurio had heard her address him as Otabek, rather than ‘Mr. Altin’ or ‘DJ Altin’.

 

“Yes, we will need to get a hotel. Wembley is about forty minutes from the Royal Festival Hall, and we need to be there early on to set everything and practise.”

 

“Alright.” Yurio agreed, as the waiter brought over their food and drinks. They thanked him, paying the bill, before beginning to eat.

 

“I can book a hotel now.” Mila told them between mouthfuls of salad. She dabbed the edge of her lips with one of the blue napkins, taking out her phone. “You can choose one.”

 

“Nice.” Yurio muttered, looking over her shoulder at the booking website on her screen.

 

“How’s this one?” She asked, showing him a hotel - it was only two minutes from the Festival Hall, with a beautiful suite and a meeting room for their staff before the gig. Yurio liked it, so he looked to Otabek, who was taking a drink of his tea, and took Mila’s phone, showing him the hotel. Looking down over his cup, Otabek nodded, eyes alight.

 

“It looks comfortable.” He said, setting down the half-empty cup, wiping up a drop of tea from the table. “I like it. How much is it?”

 

“It’s £269 for the night.” Mila told him. “I was thinking you’d get the twin room with a London eye view, kitchen, living room and work desk.”

 

“Sounds good.” Otabek confirmed. “Just take the money from my business account.”

 

“I will do so.” She said, finishing off her salad and standing to stretch. “I’ll be back in a minute- the restroom calls.” Leaving her phone with Yurio, she walked to the second floor of the cafe, out of sight of the DJ and his singer.

 

“Are you okay being in a hotel room with me?” Otabek asked, having set down his knife and fork.

 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Yurio asked, a little confused.

 

“Well, we’ve only known each other a week.”

 

“Yeah, but, by then, we’ll have known each other a month.”

 

“True.”

 

“Also, Otabek-” Yurio began. “What are we going to do about our next two songs?”

 

“Care to work on them now?” Otabek suggested, taking a notebook from his bag. “We have the first one down, writing two more won’t be hard. We just need ideas.”

 

“Okay, can I have the notebook?” Yurio asked as he took the book from the DJ, and began scribbling down some words. He made a diagram, with the word ‘Ideas’ in the centre, and Otabek pitched in, using a purple marker to note down little phrases he wanted in the lyrics. Before long, they had a concept for the new song, and Mila returned, checking her watch.

 

“I have to get going - I’m going to my parent’s house for two nights, so I won’t be available. If you need help, ask Seung-Gil, he’s my fill in for planning.” This was directed at Yurio, as Otabek, of course, already knew who to contact and when. The Russian nodded in response, absorbed in his writing and barely even hearing Mila’s voice through the ideas rushing through his head. He’d jotted down a line:

 

_ We were born to make history. _

 

-

  
  


“Thanks, Mila.” Otabek smiled a very small bit, waving at her as she exited the cafe. He glanced back to the notebook, his gaze lingering on Yurio for a moment longer than it should have. When he was excited and enthusiastic, the usual frown evaporated from the blond man’s features and he was left with an innocent, wonderful expression. Feeling something new, Otabek blinked a few times, trying to register the warmth in his chest.  _ Perhaps I should embrace this new emotion… _ he thought, slowly taking a page from the notebook and beginning to write.  _ It may help with the new song. How to describe it, though?  _ Eventually, he had some lines down:

 

_ You set my heart on fire. _

_ Don’t stop us now, the moment of truth. _

 

And:

 

_ When you believe in yourself you are unstoppable. _

_ Where your destiny lies. _

 

He showed the paper to Yurio, the feeling having lessened a little, to now be a comfortable glow. The younger of the two took the paper, scanning over it, and humming a few varied tunes, adding some notes to the words.

 

“How about this?” He questioned, and Otabek hummed the tune. It was a determined tune, full of emotion and it made him smile.

 

“I like it.”

 

-

 

Yurio and Otabek had left the cafe fairly shortly, deciding to go and work in a nearby park instead. The fresh air and warm sunlight helped their concentration, and in about an hour they had all the lyrics down, and a tune was beginning to take place. Of course, it wouldn’t really be complete until they played it properly and ran through the whole thing, but it was a step in the right direction. However, Yurio felt drained and tired, and lay back on the grass, letting his pen drop to the ground by his side. Closing his eyes for a moment, he felt a calm air settle over him, and he felt as if everything was suddenly alright - all his worries from before the audition were disappearing one by one. No more worry about rent (he was getting a fair sum of money every day, and it was thrilling to finally see himself out of debt), no more worry about his job (Yuuri was kind and happy to let Yurio have a lot of time off), and no more worry about wasting his life (he was writing music - what else could he ask for?)

 

Suddenly, his peace was disturbed as he heard rustling next to him, and he opened his eyes, turning his head to the right and seeing Otabek lying next to him, his arms behind his head, eyes focused on the sky. After a moment Otabek mimicked Yurio and closed his eyes, leaving the Russian to sit there, gawking at just how beautiful he looked and-  _ oh my god, not this again! _

 

Yurio leant on his elbows, eyes travelling from Otabek’s closed eyes down to his slightly parted lips, and then down to the notebook that rested on the DJ’s chest. Trying not to make much noise, Yurio shifted so he could read the notebook, and saw the lyrics they had come up with written in the form of a full song:

 

_ Can you hear my heartbeat? _

_ I’m tired of feeling I’m never enough. _

_ I close my eyes and tell myself _

_ My dreams will come true. _

 

_ There will be no more darkness  _

_ When you believe in yourself _

_ You are unstoppable _

_ Where your destiny lies _

_ Dancing on the stage _

_ You set my heart on fire. _

 

_ Don’t stop us now _

_ The moment of truth _

_ We were born to make history. _

 

_ We’ll make it happen. _

_ We’ll turn it around. _

 

_ Yes, we were born to make history. _

 

The song continued into a second verse which was similar to the first, and Yurio found himself singing along quietly to the tune they had began to develop. When he had finished, he nodded a few times to himself, liking how it had turned out. Then, he looked back to Otabek’s face, intending to scrutinise his pretty features once again, but found the DJ’s eyes to be wide open, and a smile plastered on his face as he watched Yurio admiring their handiwork. The blond let out a near-silent gasp, eyes flicking away from Otabek and then back again as the older of the two sat up straight, looking at the notebook himself.

 

“I like this song.” Otabek said simply, looking up under his eyelids at Yurio, face still turned towards the notebook; the Russian agreed.

 

“Yeah… yeah, me too.” Quickly, Yurio stood, brushing grass off his jeans and receiving his own notebook and gripping it tightly, making his knuckles turn white.

 

“Sorry, Otabek. I just realised I- I have to go… uhh… I have to go see Yuuri! I’ll text you later!” And with that, he turned on his heel, finding himself running out of the park and down the street. He continued to run for another three blocks, before falling to his knees and panting.

 

_ What was happening?! _

 

**_Yurio [2:59pm]_ ** _ Yuuri I need help _

 

**_Katsudon [3:00pm]_ ** _ Are you okay?? Where are you? _

 

**_Yurio [3:02pm]_ ** _ Stay calm i’m fine i just- i’m on my way rn so you better be at Viktor’s _

 

**_Katsudon [3:02pm]_ ** _ I am _

 

Picking up the pace again, Yurio jogged the whole way to Viktor’s pub, arriving at the front entrance, sweat dripping down his brow, hairclip barely keeping his fringe back anymore. Upon entry, he saw Yuuri at the bar, staring at his phone, biting his lip, but Yuuri heard Yurio arrive and turned quickly, running over to him.

 

“Oh my goodness, Yurio- are you okay? You look… well, _ terrible _ !”

 

“Thanks, Katsudon.” He huffed, taking a seat at the bar, slamming his notebook and phone onto the surface. Viktor turned from cleaning glasses with mild interest, face unusually serious.

 

“Yurio, you okay?” He asked, polishing a wine glass and hanging it back on the rack.

 

“No, I am not okay!” Yurio virtually yelled, throwing his arms up, still panting from his run in the heat.

 

“What did you need help with?” Yuuri asked, taking a seat on a stool next to Yurio, gaze concerned.

 

“It’s Otabek.” Yurio explained. “He’s stupid.”

 

“What do you mean? I thought he was wonderful?” Viktor chipped in, coming and leaning on the bar, tilting his head to get a better look at Yurio’s distressed expression.

 

“Well, he is! He’s really great- ach! See, this is the problem! When I’m with him I get all hot and it’s really annoying and I can’t help but look at his face and it’s annoying and I just- he’s  _ annoying _ !” At his words, Viktor and Yuuri shared a pitiful smile, and the Japanese man patted Yurio on the back gently.

 

“It’s okay, Yurio. Don’t worry about any of that. You’ll work it all out in the end.” 

 

At the end of Yuuri’s comforting sentence, Viktor decided to add his own opinion: “Sounds like you fancy him to me!”

 

“ _ HUH _ ?!” Yurio’s head whipped around, the clip finally giving up and letting the rest of his fringe fall onto his sweaty face; the golden strands stuck to him, adding to his irritated mood.

 

“Viktor!” Yuuri groaned, putting his head in his hands and letting out a low cry.

 

“What, did I do something wrong?” Viktor asked with a naive smile, putting his hand to his chin, pondering.

 

“Yes!” Yuuri said, giving his husband a look of disbelief. He leaned over, putting a hand over his mouth and whispering so Yurio couldn’t hear. “He has to figure it out himself- don’t put any pressure on him, it’ll just upset him.”

 

“Oh. Sorry!” Viktor gasped, turning back to Yurio. “I was just kidding, Yurio, don’t listen to me.” The younger Russian man nodded violently, face a little red.

 

“I know! You could never say that seriously because I very clearly do not have a thing for Otabek! I like his music, that’s all!”

 

“Exactly!” Viktor agreed, receiving another cry from Yuuri. After they gave Yurio something to drink, the two edged away from him, having another discussion.

 

“Viktor, don’t tell him his feelings, but don’t discourage him! He might never admit it, you know? It’s  _ Yurio _ we’re talking about.”

 

“Yes, you’re right.” Viktor agreed, sighing. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay, c’mere.” Yuuri smiled, pulling his husband’s face closer to his for a second, about to plant a kiss on his nose, when he heard Yurio choke.

 

“Ew, guys, not here!” They heard the blond scream, which was met with furious blushing from Yuuri and a laughing Viktor.

  
Well, at least Yurio knew he could always rely on these two.


	5. Otabek's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yurio is very flustered.

Viktor and Yuuri were dressed well - Viktor in a pale odineal shirt and navy blazer, Yuuri in a ocher jacket. The two were outside the pub, waiting on Yurio and Otabek to show; this was the first time the married couple would be meeting the DJ, and it was an understatement to say that they were a little apprehensive.

 

“Don't do anything embarrassing, please.” Yuuri begged. “I don't want Yurio disowning us as his friends.”

 

“Don't worry!” Viktor assured him. “I will be my normal self.”

 

“That's what I'm worried about.” Came Yuuri’s anxious response.

 

-

 

Yurio waited at an aesthetic fountain a few streets from Viktor’s pub, his arms folded and brows furrowed as he texted Yuuri, telling him that Otabek had not yet arrived. Eventually, the Russian man noticed a head in the crowd, and Otabek Altin came into view, looking a little flustered - strange, Yurio had never seen him flustered before.

 

“Yura! I’m sorry-” he panted, running the last few steps and breathing heavily. “I came on the underground but I missed a stop and had to come back, I-”

 

“Oh, shush. It’s fine.” Yurio laughed, patting Otabek lightly on the arm. “Viktor and Yuuri are waiting, so we gotta go now.”

 

“Yes, of course.” Otabek agreed, hitching his bag on his shoulder and following the shorter blond down the road. They began to discuss their third and final song, helplessly trying to come up with ideas for it, but with no luck. Finally, they found their way to Viktor’s pub and saw the married couple stood outside together.

 

“Hey, Katsudon!” Yurio called, waving an arm. The blond man was slightly nervous - what would Viktor and Yuuri think of Otabek? Would they think he was too solemn? As the two younger people approached, Otabek introduced himself.

 

“Hello, Mr. Katsuki-Nikiforov.” Of course, Otabek knew the names of Yurio’s friends - Viktor and Yuuri were fairly famous from their past skating careers. “I am Otabek Altin, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

“The pleasure is ours.” Yuuri smiled, shaking hands with Otabek. Viktor patted the DJ on the shoulder.

 

“You make very good music.” Commented the older Russian man, silver hair swaying a little in the brisk breeze that had picked up. “I am very glad Yurio is working with you!”

 

“Thank you.” Otabek offered Viktor a polite smile, and Yurio decided it was best for them to talk over some food, instead of out on the street, so he chimed into the conversation:

 

“Hey, Katsudon, Vitya, I’m starving - why don’t we eat and you guys can talk more?” Otabek nodded, as did the other two, and so they decided to settle for an interesting cafe: ‘The Library’ Yurio read off - it didn’t look like a library. It was a small shop, selling coffee, tea, various cakes and sandwiches and plenty of sweets. Settling on this peculiar place, the four entered, sitting next to the window. Now Yurio could see why it was called ‘The Library’.

 

Antique books lined every corner of the shop, dust blanketed on their pages, broken spines all neatly in place along the huge oak shelves. Book stands were open, there were ladders to get higher up books, and lanterns dangled pleasantly from the ceiling, casting a gentle glow around the cafe. Yuuri seemed very happy with this shop - the Japanese man loved reading.

 

After a while, they ordered some food and, as they ate, they spoke. They spoke about a lot. Yuuri and Otabek got on incredibly well, and even Viktor managed not to be too embarrassing. All in all, Yurio felt genuinely happy. That is, until Yuuri got up to go to the bathroom, leaving Viktor with Otabek and himself.

 

_ Oh no… _ warning signs blared in Yurio’s mind at the way Viktor sat, chin rested on his hands, eyes narrowed as he looked at Otabek. He’s going to say something embarrassing!

 

“Otabek.” Viktor said, voice friendly. The DJ looked up from his notebook, offering a kind look and a smile.

 

“Yes, Mr. Nikiforov?”

 

“You can call me Viktor.” He said, waving a hand nonchalantly. “But, Otabek, I must ask you something. Are you and Yurio a thing now?”

 

Yuratchka wanted to die.

 

“A thing?” Otabek questioned, tilting his head a little in confusion. “People are not things.”

 

“No, no~ I mean, are you two… getting together?”

 

“VIKTOR!” Yurio shouted, giving Otabek a fright. “We’ve been over this! Beka and I are NOT dating!”

 

“Yes, you said that.” Viktor frowned. “But you always deny everything, Yurio, so I feel like Otabek will give me a more truthful answer. The DJ leaned forwards, getting the attention on him.

 

“I will give you a truthful answer.” He stated, usual solemn face set in like stone. “Yura and I are not dating, we are very good working partners.”

 

“E-exactly!” Yurio blared, pointing at Viktor. “See, you’re wrong as usual, idiot!” Inside, however, Yurio couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment - surely Otabek saw them as more than work partners, right? But, with the way he treated Mila, it appeared the Kazakhstan man was not the most intelligent when it came to love. Luckily, Yuuri returned and they paid the bill, before exiting the sweet cafe.

 

“Viktor and I have to head back no - we’re holding a karaoke night at Viktor’s.”

 

“That sounds fun.” Otabek interjected. “Would I be able to come?”

 

“Really?” Yurio asked, surprised. Yuuri grinned.

 

“Of course! It’s at Viktor’s pub. Yurio, you’ll come along too? Phi and Chris are going to be there.”

 

“Alright.” Otabek answered for him, seemingly a little excited. “We will both go, right Yurio?”

 

“S-sure…” Stuttered the blond, unable to say no to Otabek. Then, it was decided - they would 

be at Viktor’s for 8:00pm, ready for karaoke until 10:00.

 

-

 

So, at 7:50pm, Yurio entered Viktor’s pub, guitar on his back. He had brought it just in case anyone wanted an acoustic song. As he walked into the warm room, he saw Yuuri and Phichit already here, and, to his surprise, Otabek had arrived early, too. The Russian walked over, giving a brief wave before leaning on the counter of the bar next to Otabek.

 

“Evening, Yurio!” Phichit grinned, shooting Yurio a wink. The blond had told the Thai boy all about his strange feelings for Otabek, and he knew that Phichit would tease him relentlessly for the whole evening. It wasn’t even anything to tease him about - he didn’t like Otabek, right? No matter how obvious it was becoming, Yurio kept telling himself that he did not like Otabek, because  _ he was not gay _ . The young man had no problem with gay people - most of his friends were gay; take Yuuri and Viktor, for example - but he did have a problem with himself being gay - he had always imagined finding a beautiful and kind girl in the future, and having a wonderful life with her. Sadly, that dream was slowly slipping away, and being replaced with a new idea: a life of Otabek. But, was that really sad? Yurio enjoyed the new idea forming in his mind - a life of singing, of performing, of being friends with his idol. His thoughts were cut off as Viktor and Chris came into view.

 

“Hey, Yurio.” Chris smiled; he was wearing a weird item of clothing - a cropped jumper, it looked like. Chris was fairly flamboyant, so his questionable clothing didn’t shock Yurio. However, he saw Otabek do a double take, and couldn’t suppress a chuckle. Viktor clapped twice, getting everyone’s attention.

 

“Hey, hey! I’m going to set up the karaoke. Chris, can you bring the two microphones from the storage cupboard? Yuuri, help me with the wires?”

 

“Sure.” Chris and Yuuri said in unison, leaving to help set things up. Otabek settled into a comfortable talk with Phichit, and Yurio listened in, while the others returned and put everything together.

 

“Alright, they’re ready!” Phichit cheered, looking over Otabek’s shoulder to see the completed set up. Yurio ambled towards the microphone, picking it up, if a little hesitant. He really wanted to sing, but he didn’t want to appear as a show off. Turning his head, he saw Yuuri had a microphone, too. The Japanese man smiled.

 

“Care for a duet, Yurio?” He asked, tossing the mic from one hand to another. Despite being surprised, the blond nodded, hair covering his turquoise eyes. After some discussion, they settled on a song - “ _ Arashi no Rhapsody _ ”.

 

“This is in Japanese…” Yurio mumbled, not too sure if he would be able to read all of it. He had studied Japanese for a while now, but he was still struggling with writing the symbols and memorising it.

 

“It’s okay, the romaji will show up on the karaoke screen!” Yuuri comforted, grinning. “Let’s sing it together.

 

“O-okay, I’ll try.”

 

And the music started, upbeat and fun as it escaped from the speakers. Yurio saw his part flicker on screen, and began to sing. “ Kowareyuku sekai futari nara kitto, enjitsu o koe te sukuidaseru.”

 

He was fairly proud that he got the lyrics correct, and looked to Yuuri as the older man began to sing. Japanese was Yuuri’s native language, so he sang it incredibly well: “Kienai kizuato ore tachi no kizuna, kokoro nurashi ta kanashimi nugisute te, tada hitotsu no negai kanae tai.”

 

The song continued, the two getting more and more into it until the final chorus played. Yurio would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying himself tremendously. 

 

-

 

Otabek sat at a round table with Phichit and Chris, head leaning on his hand as he watched the two Yuris singing and dancing, though, his eyes mainly focused on the shorter, blond Yuri. The two had begun twirling and hopping to the beat, and Otabek realised how much he liked seeing Yurio having fun. Suddenly, that feeling was back in his chest, and he whipped out his small notebook from his pocket, hit with a strong inspiration for lyrics to their final song:

 

_ He was dancing, he was smiling _

_ Roses blooming in his cheeks _

 

It wasn’t much, but it sure was better than nothing. Finally, the song was over, and it was Otabek’s turn to sing. He stood quickly as Yuuri took his seat, and Viktor grinned from behind the bar.

 

“You and Yurio should do a duet - it’ll give us a sneak peek for your gig in a few weeks!”

 

“Sure.” Otabek agreed, more than happy to sing with Yurio. The blond also seemed content, and they scrolled through the karaoke list, finally settling on a classic  _ Fall Out Boy  _ song -  _ ‘Thanks for the memories _ ’.

 

“Let’s do this.” Yurio had decided, eyes alight - he must like  _ Fall Out Boy _ . Otabek always agreed to Yurio’s choices nowadays, so there he stood, mic in hand, looking at the screen as the lyrics began. Yurio took the first part: “I’m gonna make you bend and break. It sent you to me without wake. Say a prayer, but let the good times roll. In case God doesn’t show, let the good times roll.”

 

His voice was extraordinary, even when he was out of breath from the previous song, and Otabek was impressed - he had definitely made the correct choice in those auditions. All of a sudden, it was his part:

 

“And I want these words to make things right, but it’s the wrongs that make the words come to life. Who does he think he is? If that’s the worst you’ve got, you better put your fingers back to the key.”

 

Now, for the duet part. Both Yurio and Otabek gave each other a sidelong glance, a smirk appearing on the Russian man’s face as the chorus blared out, their voices along with it.

“One night, and one more time. Thanks for the memories, even if they weren’t so great! He tastes like you, only sweeter.”

 

Time went on and on, the group singing together and laughing and having fun. Eventually, they checked the clock, only to realise it was 11:00pm, and so Yurio, Otabek, Phichit and Chris all left, bidding Viktor and Yuuri goodbye and thanking them for the night. Chris waved farewell as he went the opposite direction to the rest of them, and Yurio, Phichit and Otabek made their way down the street.

 

“Yurio, can I sleep over?” Phichit asked, eyes pleading. “I’m scared of the dark and my house is a twenty minute walk.”

 

“Sure, you don’t need excuses, you can stay over anytime.” Yurio told him, before turning to Otabek. The DJ couldn’t suppress a look of faint distaste at the idea of someone staying with Yurio, but he attempted to look neutral nonetheless. It obviously didn’t work, as Yurio looked a little concerned. “Beka, are you okay?” He asked, voice wavering a tiny bit on the last syllable.

 

“I’m fine, just tired. I should head off this way now, night Yura, night Phichit.”

 

“Goodnight Otabeka, it was nice meeting you!” Phichit beamed - apparently he was using a nickname for Otabek, too. The DJ smiled briefly, heading off down another road. He took out his notebook as he walked, scribbling down another few lines.

  
_ In a quiet kind of litany _

_ He accepted some defeat _

_ And then he twirled into the arms _

_ Of disgrace and then repelled _

 

He didn’t know why these exact words came to mind - they just did, and they sounded good, so he left them there, underneath the first few lines. Yawning widely, he made his way home, entering the empty house. There was a note from Mila on the table, stating that she’d left some takeout in the fridge for him. Scrunching the little piece of paper into a ball, he tossed it in the bin, making his way to the fridge and heating up the chicken and noodles that were there for him. Opening the notebook once more, he racked his brain for anything else, but with no luck. Giving up, Otabek washed the dishes and headed upstairs, brushing his teeth and throwing himself into bed. He read a book about composers for a while, finding it interesting, before yawning once more and flicking off his light. One thing disturbed him a little as he attempted to sleep.

 

And that was the fact that he was thinking about Yurio.

  
  


-

 

Bright sunlight trickled through the gap in the curtains, shining onto Yurio and making his eyes flutter open. The clock read 8:30am, and he could hear Phichit snoring softly on the ground next to his bed. Due to the cramped space in his apartment, Yurio had to give guests airbeds and sleeping bags when they came over; not that Phichit minded, of course, he was used to staying at the Russian man’s place by now, they had been friends for a few years.

 

Stretching, Yurio sat up and unlocked his phone, only to see two texts from Otabek.

 

**_Beka [7:45am]_ ** _ Morning Yura, I had some ideas and I want to practise our songs today. The concert is just around the corner. _

 

It was true, there was only five days left until the gig. Yurio felt himself shudder at the concept of it - he would be on a stage in front of so many people.

 

**_Beka [7:56am]_ ** _ You can come over whenever you’re awake. My address is here: _

 

Otabek had given his address, and Yurio felt himself get even more nervous at the idea of going over to Beka’s than he had the idea of performing live on stage. Strange, surely it should be normal for him to go over - they were just partners in work, right? Suddenly energetic, Yurio hopped out of bed, rushing around and getting into more respectable clothes, shoving a pastry into his mouth and writing a note for Phichit, before exiting the stuffy apartment and making his way onto the sunny street. Hands in pockets, he scanned his phone screen and walked through the roads of London, making his way to the given address. 

 

Upon arriving, he hesitated for a moment, before knocking twice on the large mahogany door. Whilst he waited for it to open, Yurio took a look around. Unsurprisingly, Otabek lived in a large house. It had a beautifully maintained garden with blooming lilies, their petals like the skirts of a dancer; tulips, curved patels hiding the centre of the flower from the beating sun; roses as fluorescent as stage lights; and stunning daffodils, beaming towards the sky, reflecting the dazzling light from the opaque atmosphere. Yurio breathed in deeply, the scents from all the flowers gliding through him and making him feel a little light headed. Making him start, the door clicked open, and the now familiar face of Otabek peered at him, eyes shining and lips curved into a very miniature smile.

 

“G-good morning!” Yurio almost shouted, going tense with sudden anxiety - why was he so nervous today?

 

“Hi.” Otabek chuckled, opening the door more widely. “Come in, do you want a drink?”

 

“Ah- yes, please.” Yurio answered, wiping his feet on the bristled doormat and placing his boots on a shoe rack in the entrance as he tried to calm down. Otabek seemed just the same as usual, so why should he act any differently? This was just a work visit, after all.

 

“How about tea? Or something cold?”

 

“Tea sounds good.” He agreed quickly, pushing some blond locks behind his ear, trying to distract himself from the way Otabek’s voice sounded when he asked. What was happening - Yurio’s head was in a muddle this morning, it seemed.

 

“So,” Otabek began to talk again, and Yurio felt his face heat up for no apparent reason, “I thought of some starting lyrics for our final song. I supposed you could add some to mine - you always seem to have ideas.” Yurio nodded, before realising Otabek wasn’t facing him and, therefore, could not see him.

 

“Yes- Yes, I can do that!” He stuttered, silently cursing himself for being so weird. He needed to calm down. His squeaking voice attracted Otabek’s attention, and the DJ turned around, raising a brow.

 

“Yura, do you feel okay? You seem a little off.” His eyes widened in the slightest, and he abandoned the tea, walking over to Yurio and putting a hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up - you haven’t got a fever, have you?”

 

“No! No, I’m fine. Just… not a great sleep…” For some reason unknown to the Russian, Otabek backed off a few steps, seemingly a little frustrated. Yurio furrowed his eyebrows, pouting for a moment. “What about you? You seem a little… off, too.”

 

“I’m fine.” Otabek said, voice rough, as he finished making two cups of tea. “I just think that, considering how close the concert is, you should be looking after your health a little more and not staying up so late.”

 

“Oh, okay. Sorry.” Yurio muttered. He had lied - he’d slept fine - but he didn’t want Otabek to know how flustered he was just to be at his house. With the way he treated Mila, when she so obviously had a thing for him, Yurio was afraid of being rejected in the same way. Wait, why was he scared of rejection? What rejection? He was simply a colleague, or perhaps a friend, of Otabek’s. Rejection was only something that happened when someone caught feelings for someone who didn’t feel the same, so that couldn’t be Yurio, because  _ he was sure he didn’t have any feelings for Otabek _ .

 

-

 

The DJ felt irritated, to say the least, perhaps he was even angry.

 

Had Yurio stayed up the previous night with that ‘friend’ of his? (Phichit, if Otabek remembered correctly). Was there something between Yurio and the Thai boy? Otabek knew it wasn’t his business, but he felt a strong desire to ask.

 

“Yura, who is Phichit?” Yurio seemed a little surprised by the sudden question, and he took the finished tea from Otabek, sipping it before he answered.

 

“He’s my friend. He’s got a close relationship with Yuuri.”

 

“He’s just a friend?”

 

“What do you mean?” Yurio asked, visibly confused. “Of course he’s just a friend.”

 

“Good.” Otabek found himself saying, and instantly regretted it, but Yurio didn’t seem too bothered, and the tension that had formed prior their short conversation began to melt away, giving the DJ a huge wave of relief.

 

“Do you have a practise room?” Yurio asked, guessing that, with a house this big, Otabek had a room of instruments. He was right, and followed Beka to said room, gawking at the range of gleaming instruments - guitars, drum kits, a piano, a saxophone, a whole bookcase of lyrics and music - it was like a heaven.

 

“You like it?” Otabek asked, smiling as he took a drink of tea. “It’s my favourite room.”

 

“I love it.” Yurio said in an instant, setting his cup down on a table and going over to the guitars, inspecting their perfect make. A comfortable silence settled over them as Yurio went around each instrument, scrutinising all their details and taking in the pure perfection of the room. After a few minutes, he straightened up, and smiled. “Can I see the lyrics you’ve started?”

 

“Sure, just a sec.” Otabek nodded, exiting the room and finding the notebook in his bedroom, two doors across from the musical room. When he returned, Yurio had opened the window, and was leaning out of it, gazing at the pleasant view of the garden.

 

The two sat together on the fluffy rug, legs crossed and tea balanced on the floor next to them. Otabek let Yurio see the few lines he had written, and saw the young man’s aquamarine eyes light up as he took a pen, scribbling down some more words.

 

-

 

Yurio had ideas, and he was a little unsure about them, but he wrote them down anyway. This song could be his way of figuring out what he was feeling for Otabek - if he wrote down his own thoughts, masked in the lyrics of a song, surely it would help him understand his emotions.

 

_ This isn’t what I wanted _

_ It isn’t what you need _

 

And, a few lines under that:

 

_ Don’t you pay them any mind _

_ You know this happens every time _

 

‘This isn’t what I wanted’ was exactly as it looked - Yurio had never wanted to have feelings for someone, never mind another man, and nevermind a celebrity! ‘It isn’t what you need’ was also just as it seemed: Otabek had a career to uphold, and he definitely didn’t need a colleague like Yurio to distract him from that. ‘Don’t you pay them any mind’ was a little more unclear, and Yurio was a little ashamed to say it was about Mila. He didn’t want Otabek to pay any mind to her romantic advances, which meant he also didn’t want Otabek to pay his actions any mind. No matter what, he didn’t want to ruin the relationship they already had. 

 

Finally, ‘you know this happens every time’. This, in Yurio’s mind, was about how, whenever he saw Otabek, whenever Otabek did something kind to him, whenever Otabek did virtually anything, he felt his face get warm and his heart beat faster. It happened every single time, and he couldn’t stand it.

 

Curiously, Otabek watched him, occasionally drinking some more tea. They passed the notebook back and forth, adding more and more. Soon enough, it seemed they were both just writing down their thoughts and making them rhyme. Eventually, a lot of the song was written out, with just a few things missing.

 

“I feel like there’s a gap here.” Yurio commented, rubbing his head absentmindedly. Otabek made a noise in agreement, taking the book back and pondering for a moment, before writing down a single sentence, very slowly.

 

_ Just calm yourself and breathe _ .

  
  



	6. Denial Is The First Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yurio and Mila have a friendly conversation.

Everything went by in a blur.

 

After the lyrics were down, the two had practised their other songs for an hour, before returning to writing music for their newest song. Slowly, everything was coming together, and, with less than a week left, things were looking good.

 

It was at lunch time that the two decided to head out - they had worked all morning, after all. Walking down the street, they headed to a small cafe in the opposite direction to where they usually met, and sat at a two person table outside. Everything felt peaceful and write, and Yurio was at ease. Neither one spoke, simply enjoying each other’s company in comfortable silence. Otabek wrote music down in his pocket notebook whilst Yurio scrolled through instagram. 

 

Cerulean, the sky hovered above them, letting the clouds soften it around the edges and trees pierce it’s smooth surface. Leaning his head on one hand, Yurio glanced up from his phone, his eyes resting on Otabek. The DJ was slightly hunched over, brows furrowed in concentration as he bit his lip and poured out his mind onto his page.  _ Skritch _ , _ skritch _ , went the pencil, lead snapping off every once in awhile, meaning Otabek had to press down the mechanical pencil and get more of the lead to continue. Smiling to himself, Yurio watched him write, before the waiter came outside and gave them both cake and coffee.

 

“Yura, about the gig.” Otabek suddenly said, snapping his notebook closed and resting his elbows on the table. “I want your opinion on it. What lighting shall we have? What set up? What type of mic do you want?”

 

“I hadn’t thought of any of that.” Yurio said through a mouthful of Victoria sponge cake.

 

“Also, we need to have our clothes made or ordered later today. I want them arriving in time. Mila knows a professional seamstress who can fit us with perfect attire.”

 

“Nice.” Yurio commented, sipping his creamy drink. “I want something cool.”

 

“What’s your definition of cool?” Otabek asked, dusting some cake crumbs from his hands.

 

“Hmm, dunno. Black’s always a good colour, though.”

 

“Yeah, maybe something a little flashy? Something that catches the light?” Beka suggested.

 

“How about leather?” Yurio asked. “I like the look of leather clothing.” He was only half talking about the stage-wear by now, but also about the fact that Otabek had been wearing a leather jacket when they left the house. It was now abandoned on the back of his chair due to the hot weather, which only disappointed Yurio slightly. Otabek looked just as good in the sleeveless shirt he now wore.

 

“...Okay.” Otabek smiled. “We can order stuff sometime today.”

 

After a while, the two paid and wandered around a little, looking in some shops for clothing inspiration. Whilst browsing leathers in h&m, they bumped into a familiar face - Mila Babicheva. As soon as she saw them, she ran over, heels clicking on the wooden floor.

“Mr. Altin, Yurio, strange to see you here!” Yurio felt his eyes narrow as she placed a hand on Otabek’s arm. The DJ did not respond, as usual.

 

“Hi, Mila.” He said, a little nonchalant. “We’re just thinking about concert clothes.”

 

“I should have known you’d be working.” She sighed, leaning on Beka, making Yurio ball his hands into fists at his side, though he did it unconsciously. Mila must have noticed, because she clung to Otabek even more.   
  


“Hold on, I’m going to make a call.” Otabek declared, brushing her off as he went outside, phone already at his ear. This left Mila and Yurio in an awkward conversation, neither one really knowing what to say.

 

“Hey, Yurio.” Mila began to speak, clasping her hands behind her back. “Do you, perhaps, have feelings for Mr. Altin?”

 

“E-excuse me?” Yurio exclaimed, retreating a step, posture stiffened.

 

“It’s just what I said.” She told him, eyes boring into him. “Do you like him?”

 

“Well, he’s a- uhm… a good worker…”

 

“Yes, I’d know that. Is there nothing more you feel for him? Perhaps…  _ a crush _ ?” She leaned forwards slightly, a mischievous gleam in her gaze. Yurio felt his face burn, and he glanced to Otabek, who was talking outside, then back to Mila.

 

“I would never have feelings for anyone!” Yurio protested, hands still fisted, his knuckles now whitening. “I don’t have time for it.”

 

“Alright then, whatever you say, but-” She clearly had more to say. “Are you gay?” Yurio gawked at her for a moment.

 

“No!”

 

“They say denial is the first step to realising it, though.”

 

“What? That’s like _ me _ asking  _ you _ if you’re gay!”

 

“I’m not.” She told him, matter-of-factly. “I’m bi.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I don’t just like guys.”

 

“ _ Huh _ ?”

 

“Are you an idiot?” She asked, laughing a little bit. “If a girl caught my eye, I’d be fine with it.”

 

“But you like Otabek.” Yurio spat. Tension built between them like a huge wall, threatening to break at any moment.

 

“So you caught on to that, at least. Maybe you aren’t so stupid after all.” Mila sighed, letting the tension ease a little. “Yurio, why don’t we try to get on? We both like Otabek - don’t even deny it, you obviously do - so why don’t we just enjoy each other's’ company?”

 

“I- Uh- wait, what?” Stuttered the blond, confused about all of this conversation. How did she so easily admit to liking girls and liking Otabek at the same time?!

 

“You really are stupid.” Chuckled the secretary, stretching for a moment.

 

“Okay.” Yurio said, slowly. “Okay, we can get on.”

 

“Wow, didn’t think you’d agree so easily!” She cheered, clapping him on the back with immense strength. As she did this, Otabek returned, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Anyway.” Mila said, straightening up. “Why don’t I help you two with the stage clothing? I can call up Sala and have her fit you two tomorrow.”

 

“Great.” Otabek agreed, and Yurio nodded along. So it was decided - the next day, Mila, Otabek and Yurio would go over to Sala’s house and have clothes fitted for their performance.

 

-

 

At the designated time, the three had grouped together and headed over to the mysterious Sala’s house; Yurio had no idea who she was. When they entered the clean, modest apartment, he saw a pretty girl with long, straight jet hair and large brown eyes. Her skin was a tan olive, and she smiled a beautiful smile.

 

“Oh!” He exclaimed, “You’re the receptionist from the auditions!” The woman - Sala, he was guessing - nodded, clapping her hands.

 

“Yup, I’m one of Otabek’s staff. You’re Yurio?” She shook his hand, before greeting Mila and Beka. She led them inside, where a man, almost identical to her, sat at the table.

 

“Oi, Sala!” He growled. “Who are these men?”

 

“Oh, shut up, Mickey.” She chided. “It’s Otabek Altin, the DJ, and his partner. Be quiet and eat your food, I’ll befriend as many men as I like.” He wailed in response, and she laughed, ushering the three into a separate room. “Alright.” She smiled. “This is the fitting room. I’ll take your measurements and we can discuss some clothing ideas.”

 

And so she did. It took a while, but eventually, after a lot of complaining from Yurio, she had all his measurements down on paper. She scanned them for a moment, giggling. “You’re very small, Yurio.”

 

“S-shut up.” He grumbled, still tetchy from being ordered around by her whilst being measured. Otabek sat down on the sofa, gesturing for Yurio to sit next to him. They browsed different fabrics that Sala brought them, and, finally, everything had been sorted. Bidding her farewell, they left without Mila, who had decided to stay a while longer.

 

The concert was so close now. So close. Yurio smiled to himself as he and Otabek walked down the street, close, but not enough to touch. At the turn off, they stopped, looking at each other for a moment.

 

“Rest up from now on.” Otabek said. “I’ll see you the day before the concert.” He turned to go, but Yurio reached forwards, grabbing the back of the DJ’s jacket.

 

“Y-you rest, too.” He mumbled, letting go quickly. Beka turned to look over his shoulder at the blond, and Yurio was surprised to see a wide smile on his face.

 

“I will.” Was all Otabek said, before putting both hands in his pockets and walking away.

 


	7. Calm Yourself And Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yurio realises many, many things.

Just as Otabek had suggested, Yurio rested over the next few days. He spent some time with Yuuri and Viktor, did a day of work in the corner shop, cleaned his apartment and slept, a lot. At long last, the day before the concert arrived, and Yurio felt ready.

 

Getting up early wasn’t a usual feat for the blond, but he somehow found himself awake at 6:30am, and he knew he wouldn’t sleep again. Quickly, he got up, got dressed, packed his stuff and ate, waiting for the clock to tell him he could go and meet Otabek. After what felt like eternity, it was 8:00, and Yurio was out the door, bag slung over his shoulder, phone in hand. He texted Otabek to check that all was going according to plan, and was relieved to hear a positive response.

 

Much to his surprise, when Yurio exited the building he saw Otabek already waiting, perched on a motorcycle, a spare helmet slung over his arm. The Russian man gasped, walking over, his heart pounding more quickly than usual.

 

“I didn’t know you had a motorcycle.”

 

“I forgot to mention it.” Came the blunt response from the DJ, as he tossed Yurio the helmet. “Come on, I know the way to the hotel. Mila and Seung-Gil are meeting us there.”

 

Having never rode a motorbike before, Yurio was a little shaky, but he clipped the helmet on, nonetheless, and threw a leg over the bike, hoisting himself up behind Otabek.

 

“How do I hold on?” He asked, panicking slightly. Otabek leaned forwards, hands clutching the handle bars.

 

“Around my waist.” He responded. Thankful that Otabek could not see him right now, Yurio felt the heat rush to his face, and tentatively snaked his arms around the Kazakhstan man’s middle. Under his few layers of clothing, Yurio could feel that Otabek was fairly muscular and fit, and it just made him even more flustered. Without warning, the DJ revved the bike, turning it around and setting off. Yurio bit down hard, accidentally splitting his lip in the process; the gross, metallic taste of blood seeped into his throat, and he coughed, gripping onto Otabek more tightly, leaning his head on the other man’s back. The world whizzed past as they made their way to the hotel, the charcoal road blurring into the jade trees, which faded into azure skies. Feeling more comfortable on the bike, Yurio leant backwards a little, letting his long hair whip out from under the helmet, leaving a stream of gold behind him.

 

After half an hour, they arrived. Otabek pulled the bike up in a motorcycle parking spot and turned it off, removing his helmet to reveal his usual slicked back undercut. Yurio hopped off the bike, stretching his cramped legs and letting out a deep breath. Here he was. Only a day left.

 

“That was really cool.” He commented, obviously referring to the bike and definitely  _ not _ to Otabek. The DJ nodded.

 

“I enjoy it. It makes me feel free.”

 

-

 

The inside of the hotel reception was incredibly fancy. Swirling patterns danced across the ceiling, royal red carpets lined the halls, elegant curtains were draped over bright, clean windows and all the furniture was made of dark, shiny wood. Feeling a little out of place, Yurio clasped his hands together as he and Otabek entered the exquisite room, standing behind him meekly as they checked in at the desk. After a brief conversation with the receptionist, they were handed a key and escorted upstairs.

 

Upon entering their suit, Yurio was awestruck. The place was immaculate: the floor was made of perfectly placed wooden planks, polished to the point that Yurio could see his reflection; the windows stretched from floor to ceiling, offering natural light and letting the sun bathe the room amber; there was a separate kitchen area, all the surfaces as black as the night sky and glistening from being freshly cleaned; and the flat-screen TV balanced cautiously on the wall, staring out across the twin bedroom. The staff member who had accompanied them bowed briefly, before leaving the two alone. Otabek smiled.

 

“Do you like this room?”

 

“I wish I lived here. Look at the view!” Yurio exclaimed, placing both his palms on the window and gazing out across the famous landmarks - Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. Compared to his ramshackle apartment, this place was a heaven.

 

“You should move out of that apartment.” Otabek muttered. “It’s cramped and badly kept. Considering the money you’re making from this budding singing career, you should have plenty to find a new home.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” Yurio responded, sighing. “I’m not used to having money, is all.”

 

“Are you going to continue?” Otabek asked, confusing the blond.

 

“Continue what?”

 

“Continue singing, after our contract ends. It ends two days after the concert.” This was new information to Yurio.

 

“I don’t know, I’m unfamiliar with the music industry, so I doubt I could get very far.” He confessed, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.

 

“Well…” Otabek started, averting his gaze. “Maybe, if you wanted, and if this gig goes well, you could work with me again.” This shocked Yurio, to say the least.

 

“Huh?”

 

“I said-”

 

“Yes, Beka, I know what you said.” Yurio interrupted. “But still- what? You wouldn’t mind me working with you again?”

 

“Of course not. I’d like it.” Otabek told him, sitting down on the edge of one of the beds, making eye contact with Yurio again. 

 

The blond laughed quietly, a smile edging onto his face. “I’d like it too.”

 

-

 

They relaxed a little after that. Otabek received a text from Mila, who was stuck in traffic with Seung-Gil. The DJ assured her that he and Yurio were already there and that everything was organised, which seemed to relax the secretary a little. Yurio had decided to lounge on the leather sofa, his feet propped up, flicking through channels on the TV. He got bored fairly quickly though, so he decided to check his social media, instead. Just as he expected, their concert was a trending hashtag on Twitter, and his inbox was blowing up. Overwhelmed, he ignored the messages, and continued to browse his feed. A lot of Otabek fan accounts were posting pictures of themselves in London, with concert t-shirts and glow sticks at the ready. Much to his surprise, Yurio found some people talking about him, too. It had obviously been made public who had won at the auditions, but everyone was yet to hear Yurio’s voice. All of a sudden, his phone chimed, and Yurio saw a text from Yuuri.

 

**_Katsudon [10:00am]_ ** _ Hey Yurio! Just to let you know, Viktor and I have passes to your concert! We’ll be at the very front with Phi and Chris, too :) _

 

It comforted him somewhat to know that Viktor and Yuuri would be present, so he sent a quick response.

 

**_Yurio [10:01am]_ ** _ Great, I’m excited. _

 

Turning off his phone, Yurio let his head hang over the arm of the sofa, and he looked at the now upside down London through the window. He started as the door clicked, and his head shot up. As expected, Otabek had returned from greeting Mila and Seung-Gil, who had finally arrived, and he held two large bags.

 

“Our clothes are here.” Otabek handed one of the bags to Yurio, who eagerly looked inside. “Why don’t you go try it on?”

 

So he did. Yurio went into their bedroom, stripping off his regular hoodie and tracksuit pants and changing into the concert wear - it was an understatement to say that he loved it.

The trousers were made of thin, black material and felt light, so Yurio supposed it would make sweating less uncomfortable. From the knee upwards, there were minute silver studs, reflecting the lights around the room. Next, the shirt: it was a ripped, black tank top with a textured cross on the front, with thin straps and smooth material. Though it was something he would never choose for himself, he liked it a lot, and was looking forward to wearing it on stage. After that, there was something a little odd. It was the shape of a cropped blazer, but it looked shiny and strange. Fondling the material, Yurio felt it was almost the same as plastic, but lighter and not as crinkly. Hesitant, he slipped it on, and saw a tiny wire around the seams. Raising a brow, he examined the jacket more closely, until he found a small button in one of the front pockets. He pressed it, and was shocked when the whole thing lit up. Staring at himself in the mirror, he twirled, seeming the way the light glimmered as he did so. Finally, he found some shoes that matched the trousers - leather and studded. All in all, he thought he looked fairly attractive.

 

“Hey, Beka. Come and look.” He called through the closed door. A moment later, the DJ entered in his own concert wear, and Yurio’s face flushed.

 

Otabek wore a sleeveless hoodie, the colour white. It had black headphones printed on the front, and it fit tightly. His trousers were somewhat similar to Yurio’s, but they were more floaty and had a skirt-like decoration at the top. Otabek smiled, and Yurio saw something gripped in his hand.

 

“She packed me some new headphones.” Said Beka, showing Yurio the electronics. He wrapped the headphones around his neck, tucking the wire in his pocket, and clicked the ‘on’ button. The headphones lit up the same colour as Yurio’s jacket - a gleaming gold - and flashed a few times.

 

“You look good.” Yurio blurted out, unable to say anything else. He swore he saw Otabek’s face tint a subtle red, but ignored the fact.

 

“So do you. I like the jacket. Sala and Mickey are really talented.”

 

“Mickey?” Yurio questioned, and Otabek nodded.

 

“Yes, her brother. He’s an electrician, so I bet he helped with the lights.”

 

“Wow, they did good.”

 

“I agree.”

 

-

 

Time ticked on. The two went over their lyrics over and over, singing the tunes and humming them as they walked around the hotel. Everything was ready, and after lunch they decided to head over to the Royal Theatre Hall, where they would perform the next day. Inside was incredible, even more so than the hotel, and a helpful staff member showed them around, and they discussed what needed to happen before the gig. Their concert began at 7:00pm, so they had to be at the Theatre for 3:30pm at the latest. A strong sense of apprehension and excitement was building inside Yurio, and time was moving so slowly - he just wanted the concert to happen!

 

On their way back to the hotel, Otabek nudged Yurio, getting his attention. The taller of the two made a suggestion:

 

“Yura, why don’t we have a nice dinner tonight? The hotel has a really nice restaurant.”

 

“Sure, sounds nice. I haven’t eaten anything expensive for ages.” So, they decided to get into more formal wear and head downstairs to the expensive and eloquent restaurant. Yurio chose a plain white shirt, black jacket and jeans - he wasn’t really one for fancy getup.

 

Side by side, the two made their way down the few flights of stairs back to the reception, which was on the ground floor along with the restaurant. They were welcomed by a smartly dressed waiter, who showed them to a table. Beautifully detailed chandeliers hung from the towering ceiling, their candles emitting a pleasant glow into the room. A single candle sat in the centre of every table, making the whole room seem light and warm. They were taken to a seat next to a large window, giving them the same view as their room.

 

“This place is really nice.” Yurio said, nervousness rising in his chest. This was feeling more like a dinner date rather than anything else, and that put him on edge. Why did he have to get so shaky and flustered whenever anything happened between himself and Otabek? He just wanted to enjoy the time they had together.

 

“I personally like it, too.” The DJ agreed, face soft and welcoming. This was feeling strange to Yurio - everything felt too perfect, and Otabek felt different, though Yurio couldn’t understand how. “What are you thinking of ordering, Yura?”

 

“Um… maybe this.” Yurio muttered, pointing to an Italian dish, before shaking his head slowly. His heart was threatening to leap out of his chest - this felt so romantic.

 

“Mm, I’m going to get something light. I don’t want to have stomach ache tomorrow.” Otabek mused, flicking through the extensive menu.

 

“Y-yeah…” Came Yurio’s bleak response.

 

“Yura?” Otabek’s eyes bored into him. “Are you alright?” The blond couldn’t make eye contact.

 

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Yurio said, trying to convince himself more than Otabek. He forced himself to look up, putting on a smile. “I’m just tired.”

 

“We should get an early night, then.” Otabek concluded, seeming to believe the weak excuse Yurio had given.

 

A short while later, a waiter arrived to take their orders. Yurio eventually decided on smoked salmon with soy rice and courgettes, whereas Otabek ordered a greek dish called souvlaki. The waiter took their menus, having scribbled down their orders, and left them alone once again. Otabek turned to Yuiro, leaning on his arms.

 

“So, I wanted to ask you something.” He began, and Yurio felt his hands start to shake. Where was all this nervousness coming from? It was just Otabek, it was just the same as always.

 

“Yes?” He asked, voice wavering.

 

“The final song we wrote.” Otabek said. “How did you come up with your parts?”

 

“Um…” Yurio blanked for a moment - the final song was the one where he’d poured out his feelings into words. Had Otabek picked up on that?

 

“You see, for me…” the DJ spoke. “I wrote a lot about you.” Yurio stayed silent, which Otabek took as a sign to continue. “I wrote the first few lines at the karaoke with Viktor and Yuuri. You were dancing and smiling, and your face was like the colour of a rose - tinted slightly pink.” He smiled. “You looked like you were having fun, and it made me inspired.”

 

_ How the hell do i respond to that?! _

 

“A-ahah… really?” Yurio said, and he reckoned his face was ‘like the colour of a rose’ right now, but not a pink rose, probably a crimson one.

 

“Really.” Otabek confirmed, totally unfazed by his utterly embarrassing line. “And then, when I was writing some of the second verse: ‘where the burdens of his mother were like sandbags on the eyes.’ That was about me.” He averted his eyes for a while as he spoke. “I didn’t really have a good time at home. My mother was badly disabled, and it really affected me. I cared for her whilst my father worked, and I told her I would become a musician - it was always her dream, too. But, I didn’t do it just for her. I love music. When things were hard with my mother, I always listened to my favourite songs to calm down.”

 

Yurio’s mouth hung open, and he didn’t know what to say. Saying ‘I’m sorry’ made no sense - it wasn’t something to be sorry about, so he said something else: “I think you did well.” Otabek raised his eyebrows in question; Yurio continued. “I think you did well to become a musician and carry on both of your dreams, I mean, it’s not an easy task to become famous, right?”

 

“That’s right.” Otabek smiled softly. “Though, the word ‘burden’ sounds like I’m calling my mother a burden, which I would never do. The ‘burden’ is my own feelings about the issue. It may not make sense, but, considering you’re the singer, you should know the meaning behind the words.”

 

Now Yurio realised what felt different about Otabek: he was opening up. He was talking, he was telling Yurio things that had never been told before. He was finally letting Yurio understand him. Somehow, that scared the blond a little, but it also made him feel warm inside, like he was special in some way to Otabek. Hell, maybe he was.

 

“My lyrics for this song are about someone I know.” Yurio began, not able to look Otabek in the eye. “They’ve confused me, so I wanted to write about it.” Otabek nodded, urging the Russian man to continue, but Yurio shook his head again. “I really don’t know how to explain it. Not yet, anyway. I’ll tell you when I work it out.”

 

“Take your time, Yura. I’m curious, but your uncertainty just makes these lyrics even more interesting.” As their conversation ended, the waiter served their meals, and the two enjoyed the food, chatting and laughing.

 

All of Yurio’s anxiety had disappeared.

 

-

 

Before he knew it, they were at the Royal Theatre Hall at 3:31pm the following day.

Time had flown by - after dinner, they went back upstairs and fell asleep in an instant, and the next day was preparation day. Mila and Seung-Gil were up to their necks in work, and some security arrived at the building to escort Yurio and Otabek to the Theatre. When they arrived, Sala was there, along with a woman called Minako, a makeup artist. Yurio was surprised to find that he and Otabek had different dressing rooms, and felt a little put off when they were practically dragged away from each other by bustling staff members. The dressing room was all white - white walls, white carpet, white furniture. There was even a classic dressing room mirror,  with lights gleaming around the frame, making Yurio’s face even paler than usual. With bag in hand, the makeup artist, Minako, entered, a huge smile plastered on her face.

 

“You’re Yuri? Nice working with you. You already know my name, so it’s pointless to introduce myself. So, for your concert there’s a gold theme?”

 

“Y-yes.”

 

“Good, I’ve got a lot of ideas. Let’s get started.” She clapped her hands, perching on the stool next to where he sat. He was already wearing the ripped tank top and studded trousers, but the jacket was still hung on a clothes rack at the back of the room, and it looked plain and strange without the glow of the lights. Yurio was asked to keep his head facing forwards as Minako began to work on his makeup, her brushes tickling his skin and making him want to flinch. Because she was being so careful, Minako took a long time to do Yurio’s makeup, but eventually, it was done, and it was perfect.

 

Gold halos brightened Yurio’s turquoise eyes, making their already vibrant colour seemingly explode, and his skin looked smooth like silk. He had soft black and brown eyeshadow dusted above his eyelids, and Minako had used glimmering gold eyeliner, contrasting with the darker shadow above. The eyeliner on the left was a regular wing, but on the right the cold cascaded down his face, forming swirls and ribbons along his skin. She had gone for a fairly dramatic look, colouring his lips matte black, decorating them with a tiny golden star. His nails had also been painted black, and Minako had done intricate golden nail art on a few of them. She seemed pleased with her work, and Yurio was, too.

 

“Alright, we’re all done. Rest up for a few minutes, you’ll be going on shortly.” She said, clapping a few times, before grabbing her jacket and exiting the dressing room, leaving Yurio alone in the silence.

  
Suddenly, something twisted in Yurio’s gut. There was a small TV in the corner of the room, and it had just switched on,

showing a view from the stage. It was 20 minutes before the concert, and half the audience had already arrived, flooding the seats and making it look like an ocean of people. That was certainly a bigger audience than Yurio had originally anticipated. He felt sick just looking at the screen, so he looked away again, his breathing getting more rapid and forced every second.

 

“Calm down…” He told himself, closing his eyes tightly. “Calm down…”

 

It was no use; his heart rate now matched his breathing, and he began to feel faint. He gnawed on his bottom lip, before realising he had makeup on, and so he sat there, frozen, whilst the anxiety overflowed. Come to think of it, he had never been up on stage before. He had no experience, no idea what to expect. Would the audience throw things? Would they shout? He had never been good socially, so being in front of a crowd that huge? God, what was he  _ thinking  _ when he auditioned?

 

Breaths still coming too quickly, Yurio picked up his phone, wanting to text Otabek for help. But, Otabek was busy right now, he was still in his dressing room getting prepared. He didn’t want to bother anyone, and he certainly didn’t want to admit to needing help. So, Yurio sat alone, feeling petrified.

 

All of a sudden, there was a knock on the door.

 

“Yura?” Came the familiar voice of Otabek. “Can I come in?”

 

Yurio was breathing so heavily, he didn’t even know if he could respond.

 

“Yes…” he croaked, shaking from head to toe. Upon hearing the tone of his voice, Otabek opened the door quickly, entering the room; his eyes widened.

 

“Yura?!” He panicked, rushing over and leaning down to meet eyes with the blond. “Are you alright? What happened?”

 

“I- I never thought… there are so many people…” Otabek placed a hand firmly on Yurio’s shoulder, spinning Yurio’s chair so that the Russian man faced him directly.

 

“There are a lot of people. Including Yuuri and Viktor and your friends. Everyone here is a fan of me, and excited to see you. That thought might make you anxious, but remember: this is only your first stage performance. If you make mistakes, no one will hold a grudge. People get better with practise, Yura.” These words did not sooth Yurio, but the contact with Otabek did. His muscles relaxed, if only a tiny bit.

 

“B-but, I just… I just can’t! Otabek, I can’t do it!” Yurio’s voice raised, and he waved his arms around helplessly. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-”

 

Before he knew what was happening, Yurio found himself in a tight embrace, with Otabek’s arms around him, the strands of Otabek’s hair tickling his face. Neither one moved for a moment, before Otabek spoke into Yurio’s shoulder. “ _ Just calm yourself, and breathe. _ ”

 

Yurio did just that. He took a huge breath and let it all out again. He repeated this, breathing in the now familiar scent of Otabek, and then letting his worries go. They were still clinging to each other, with Otabek’s face buried in Yurio’s shoulder and Yurio’s hands wrapped around Otabek’s middle.

 

“You look wonderful, by the way.” Otabek commented as he drew back from their embrace, a smile playing on his lips. “Minako did a good job.” Yurio smiled in return, standing, his legs still a little shaky, but his confidence returning.

 

“You don’t look bad yourself.”

 

The two looked at eachother for a mere few seconds more, and  _ suddenly Yurio understood _ .

Otabek Altin - the incredible DJ, the talented musician, the social butterfly, the perfect worker, the kind friend, the most interesting man in the world - he had chosen Yurio, and, although Yurio hadn’t realised it before now, he had chosen Otabek, too. They had worked together for this past month, and had grown closer and closer. Now, it all seemed so blatant, so obvious, and Yurio wanted to slap himself for not realising it sooner.

 

He liked Otabek.

 

He _ loved _ Otabek.

 

Maybe not love, not yet. Afterall, they had only known each other a month. But, with more time, Yurio decided he could grow to love Otabek. Right now, he was sure of one thing: he liked the DJ, he liked him more than he’d ever liked anyone before, and this made him smile. Yurio’s little smile grew into a magnificent grin, and he clapped Otabek on the back roughly.

 

“I’m going to ace this.”

 

-

 

“We’re ready, the concert is about to begin!”

 

“The lights are all set up, the crew are in their places. Otabek, Yuri, are you ready to go?”

 

“We’re ready.” Otabek spoke into the mic attached to his ear, giving Yurio a confident nod.

 

“Okay, go on stage in 5…”

 

The countdown begin.

 

“4…”

 

This was the moment.

 

“3…”

 

This was  _ his _ moment.

 

“2…”

 

And Otabek was here with him.

 

“1…”

 

He stepped forwards.

 

“We’re on!”

 

Lights blared onto Yurio, reflecting from the studs on his outfit and the gleaming makeup on his face. Remembering all that had just become clear to him, Yurio let the grin remain as he waved, strutting onto the stage; the crowd screamed - surely, a new singer was exciting to them, and a pretty young man, no less. Otabek came on behind Yurio, waving to the now overwhelmed crowd, who were shouting compliments and waving glowsticks.

 

“Good evening, all!” Otabek said into his mic, his voice echoing throughout the concert hall. “Thank you for coming tonight. I’m looking forward to performing for you.” This got another round of cheers, before the audience quietened down again. “With me today is Yuri Plisetsky, a talented singer who is yet to be truly discovered by the world.” Yurio felt his face heat up, and he knew it wasn’t just from the stage lights. Otabek glanced over to him, offering the centre stage to him.

 

“Hey, I’m Yuri. It’s great to finally perform. I’m excited to see how this goes.” He smiled as more cheers erupted, before Otabek spoke once more.

 

“We have composed three songs especially for this concert. We’ll be singing other old ones of mine, too, and an exclusive cover of a song by my friend, Jean, more commonly known as JJ. He’s here today, somewhere in the VIP seats.” This got some shocked gasps from the crowd, who all began to look around frantically for the other star. It wasn’t hard to find him, as Yurio saw him stand up. He was right at the front, along with the familiar faces of Viktor and Yuuri. Yurio waved to them, and he could have sworn Viktor was crying.

 

“Our first song,” Yurio started, capturing the attention of the audience, “is ‘scared to be lonely’, written specifically for this show.” The crowd clapped, and Otabek took his place on a DJ kit, his eyes filled with a sudden determination, the golden headphones still around his neck. They were not alight yet; neither was Yurio’s jacket. They were waiting for a more dramatic moment to turn the flashy clothes on. The first note struck, and Yurio took a hand-held mic, preferring it to the one on his face.

 

“It was great at the very start, hands on each other.” His voice was low, smooth like honey., every worded laced with a subtle melancholic feeling. “Couldn’t stand to be far apart, closer the better.” This was a more sad, slow song than the others they had written, but Yurio liked it. He could hear the music Otabek was mixing, and it somehow calmed him, just as Otabek’s music always had in the past. 

 

“Now we’re picking fights and slamming doors, magnifying all our flaws.” This particular song wasn’t particularly personal to Yurio, it was just angsty for the sake of it. Though, he enjoyed playing the emotional role. “And I wonder why, wonder what for, why we keep coming back for more.” 

 

The beat began to build, very quietly, and he could see Otabek’s hands working the different buttons and sliders on the other side of the stage. “Is it just our bodies? Are we both losing our minds? Is the only reason you’re holding me tonight, ‘cause we’re scared to be lonely?” More build up, Otabek was smiling, the audience was clapping, Viktor was cheering. “Do we need somebody just to feel like we’re alright? Is the only reason you’re holding me tonight, ‘cause we’re scared to be lonely?” 

 

Then the bass dropped. Beautiful sounds erupted on stage, and Yurio threw a fist in the air, his head hanging back. He was really getting into this. The song continued into the second verse and chorus, similar to the first, before the bridge. “Even when we know it’s wrong, been somebody better for us all along. Tell me, how can we keep holding on? Holding on tonight, ‘cause we’re scared to be lonely!” He dragged out the final note, making his voice do all sorts of artistic things. The audience liked it, and cheered even louder, the glowsticks leaving little dots of light on Yurio’s vision. When the song ended, Yurio was a little out of breath, to say the least.

 

Clapping filled his ears, and Yurio bowed, as did Otabek, before the next song rolled around. It was the cover of JJ’s song - with the vain title ‘Theme of King JJ’. It was more cheerful and poppy, and Yurio enjoyed it a little less, but still found it fun. His favourite line of the song was certainly ‘I can change the world, just follow me, catch me if you can and look at me.’

 

After that song, one of Otabek’s older song’s was performed by the DJ alone, giving Yurio a short break. The singer took a swig of water from the bottle on the side of the stage, returning to the spotlight. The next song was their original - History Maker.

 

“This song is called History Maker.” Otabek introduced it, sweat dripping down his forehead. “We wrote this for this show, it’s never been heard before.”

 

As he finished his sentence, the stage lights dimmed, plunging the audience and performers into darkness. Otabek pushed a button, starting the repetitive build up notes to the song, and then it started.

 

“Can you hear my heartbeat?” Yurio’s voice was airy and dreamlike, and he felt the warm glow as he turned on his glowing jacket, seeing Otabek’s headphones light up at the same time. “Tired of feeling I’m never enough. I close my eyes and tell myself that my dreams will come true.” The audience waved their bright glow sticks back and forth, creating a sea of golden light. “There’ll be no more darkness-” the lights flickered on “-when you believe in yourself, you are unstoppable.” Someone cheered. “Where your destiny lies… dancing on the stage, you set my heart on fire!” 

 

The lights blared red and orange and gold, creating a flame on stage. Otabek twisted something on his DJ table, sliding things around and pressing various buttons, mixing up the music even more than in practise. It sounded extraordinary. Yurio felt himself unintentionally dancing along - thank goodness he was a natural dancer, or else it could have been very embarrassing. “Don’t stop us now, the moment of truth, we were born to make history! Yes, we were born to make history!” 

 

Golden sparklers shot up from the front of the stage, showering the performers in sparkling stars, making Yurio’s eyes light up. “Born to make history!” More mixing, the music was perfect, it was like heaven. “Can you hear my heartbeat?” Yurio rhetorically asked as the music quietened. “I’ve got a feeling: it’s never too late. I close my eyes, see myself, how my dreams will come true.” Yuuri, Viktor, Phichit, Chris and JJ had bent their glow sticks into stars, and were frantically waving them, cheering with all their might. “There’ll be no more darkness when you believe in yourself, you are unstoppable!” He shouted the last line, getting a scream from a girl in the crowd. 

 

“Dancing on this stage, you set my heart on fire!” He looked at Otabek, locking eyes for a second, and grinned. “Don’t stop us now, the moment of truth. We were born to make history!” Even more than before, the beat dropped, and the lights flowed about the stage, making Yurio’s gold-adorned figure sparkle. At long last, the song was over, and Yurio breathed in and out heavily, sweat running on his arms and legs and back and face and God, it was  _ so hot _ on the stage.

 

“Next, I will be doing one of my more recent singles, without any singing. After this song is an interval - Yurio will see you all then!” Otabek announced.

 

Bowing quickly, the blond exited the stage, gulping down water as fast as possible, taking off his jacket in a haste. Sala and Minako rushed over, fixing his makeup and straightening his clothes and adjusting his hair. After they had finished fussing, Yurio returned to his dressing room, slumping in a plush white armchair and watching Otabek on the TV screen. Taking out his phone, he looked through all the social media. So many pictures of him and Otabek flashed up, all with positive captions - it made him feel happy. He decided to post a picture of his own. Quickly, he did a rock hand symbol and snapped a selfie, posting it with the caption ‘Performance is going well ✌️’

 

In a matter of seconds, over one hundred profiles had liked his photo, and it grew more and more, soon reaching over one thousand likes. Comments streamed in, and Yurio glanced over them:

 

**Ota-fan101** Yuuuuurii  <3 I love your voice so much! The stream on Youtube is EXPLODING!

 

**DJ-Jo-Wannabex** Wow, impressive! You look so young, but you’re talented.

 

**Creamcheesexoxo** Awee you’re so cuteeee ^^

 

**Yuris_Angels** We made a fan account for you! I’m sure you’re gonna be a big star soon! :)

 

Each one made something tingle inside of him, and he felt an overwhelming sense of joy, knowing that people liked him. Fairly soon, Otabek’s solo song was over, and the DJ joined Yurio in his dressing room after having everything fixed on him. Both of them were brought soothing cups of tea, offering relief to their strained vocal cords.

 

“You’re doing great.” Otabek told him, taking a sip of tea. “I’m happy.”

 

“I’m having fun.” Yurio confessed, laughing. “I like singing.” He was still looking at his phone, and saw some comments wanting a picture of Otabek too. “Hey, Beka, let’s take a picture together.” So, Yurio took a nice photo of them together, with mugs of tea and smiling faces. He posted it, leaving the caption blank. This one got even more likes and comments in a shorter time, and Yurio ended up silencing his phone.

 

“Time to go back on, boys.” Mila entered, telling them, her red hair tied into a high ponytail. She was not in her usual clothing, but a tight black shirt and leggings; she was almost as worn out as they were, with a clipboard in one hand and coffee cup in the other. The two stood up, making their way back out. Yurio slung his jacket over his shoulder, going on stage after Otabek.

 

“Welcome back.” Otabek called, waving again. “We’re gonna jump straight back in with another old song of mine. Hope you enjoy!”

 

After this, there were various other pieces of music and another break. Finally, at long last, the final song was introduced.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen and everyone here, thank you so much for joining us tonight.” Otabek spoke to the crowd. “And now, our final song, written for this concert only.” He looked to Yurio, who held the mic to his mouth, introducing the song: “Pay no mind.”

 

The music struck up, Otabek pressed some things and started to mix up the music. Yurio’s voice resonated in the concert hall. “He was dancing, he was smiling, roses blooming in his cheeks.” Roses bloomed in his cheeks once more as Yurio remembered that line was about him, and he smiled. “In a quiet kind of litany, he accepted some defeat. And then he twirled into the arms of disgrace and then repelled. Now, he’s fallen to his knees, but you couldn’t ever tell.” 

 

The audience waved their glow sticks in time, some of them jumping up and down to the solid beat that Otabek as producing. “And then, he asked me how we got here. I told him I don’t know! And if you keep on asking, I’ll just keep saying so. This isn’t what I wanted, this isn’t what you need.” This was the part he had written - it meant he didn’t want to fall for Otabek, but it happened despite that. “Oh, let them keep on talking!” He pointed to Otabek, who sang the single line along with Yurio.

  
“Just calm yourself and breathe!”

The beat struck Yurio like a bolt of lightning, giving him an electrifying energy. “Don’t you pay them any mind. Don’t you pay them any mind. You know this happens every time-” These words had also been written by Yurio. What he had meant was simple: he had been paying no mind to the obvious feelings he was developing for Otabek. Every time he saw the DJ, his heart would throb and his face would flush, but he chose to pay it no mind. “-Now, don’t you pay them any mind.” 

Onto the second verse, Yurio’s jacket was now tied around his waist, and was flashing gold, along with the lights. Suddenly, Yurio let his hand drop to his side, the microphone gripped in it, and he looked to Otabek, who took a deep breath.

And then Otabek began to sing.

“Where the burdens of his mother were like sandbags on the eyes, as he closes just to open, as the sirens whirling by. And now he’s off to tell a secret to his friend somewhere in town, but his friend just takes a moment and asks why I’m not around.” The crowd had gone wild, screeching and cheering for Otabek, glow sticks flashing at an alarming rate. Then, the spotlight was back on Yurio, who continued to sing.

“Darling, this is something I should have told you long ago.” Yurio understood now - this was about his feelings for Otabek. He should have told him his feelings a while ago, but he didn’t. No matter, though. After the concert, Yurio knew it would be right to tell Otabek how he felt. “I just want you to be safe, I just want to make you glow. Oh, how you glowed when we were young and with nothing on our minds, but with each other, one another, and we had nothing then but time.” 

Yurio felt more sweat slip down his neck, and he was fairly sure he smelled horrendous, but did it really make a difference? He was here, on the stage, and they were all out there, away from him. No one could control him whilst he was up here. The last chorus repeated, and Yurio pretty much cheered the lines along with the audience. “Don’t you pay them any mind!” Suddenly, the bridge of the song. Yurio let his voice become floaty and light, singing in a more feminine voice than before. “Some days you hear it.” Otabek sang the backup vocals:

“Don’t listen, I’ll carry you”

“Some days you don’t.”

“To the universe we’ll never go.”

“Sometimes you feel it.”

“It’s not worth it, help me.”

“Sometimes you won’t.” Yurio sang the final line of the bridge, preparing for the last chorus of the song, and the last chorus of their first concert.

He took a deep breath.

“Just calm yourself and breathe!”

He and Otabek sang together, voices in perfect harmony as the music throbbed within them. The whole stage way dyed pink by the lights, giving a rosy glow to the movements of the DJ and the singer, making the studs on their outfits look like gleaming amethysts, and turning their makeup magenta.

“Don’t you pay them any mind.”

“Don’t you pay them any mind.

“You know this happens every time.”

“Now, don’t you pay them any mind.” Yurio threw his head back, dropping to his knees on the stage. Otabek mixed the final few bars of music, ending on a high note. A deafening silence rang throughout the concert hall, before it erupted like an active volcano. The audience were screaming, throwing gifts and flowers onto the stage; some of them were sobbing, laughing, grinning. Yurio felt a huge sense of pride and delight in his chest, and he stood again, waving and saying farewell and thank you into the mic. He put it back in the stand, exiting off the side stage.

“Yurio!” Came a familiar voice, and the blond shot his head around to see Yuuri and Viktor rushing towards him. They had been permitted to come backstage to see him, due to them being the closest thing he had to call family. Yurio didn’t speak, he just grinned, and let Viktor smother him in a proud hug.Yuuri joined in, sobbing grossly into Viktor’s shoulder.

“Yurio, we are so happy for you!” Viktor cried, tightening the hug for a minute, before finally letting go. Yurio nodded.

“I’m happy, too.” And now, he knew he had to do go and leave them, to get changed and fed and have his makeup removed. So he did just that.

-

Finally, two hours later, at just past midnight, Yurio and Otabek escaped the busy Concert Hall. They had got changed back to normal, had their hair washed and dried and had their makeup taken off, as well as being given food and hot drinks and lots and lots of water. After that, they had gone to the VIP fans and signed all their autographs and taken a huge amount of pictures with them, and then finally been allowed to leave.

“That was incredible.” Yurio breathed as he walked next to Otabek along the side of the River Thames. Their hotel and the Royal Concert Hall were right next to the famous river, and it was a fairly relaxing place to be.

“You did well.” Otabek praised, patting Yurio on the shoulder. The blond nodded.

“So did you. Your singing was just as good as mine.”

“No, it wasn’t. I’m a DJ, I don’t sing like you do. You have so much passion. I look forward to watching you improve.” Yurio felt worried that their conversation would stay on music, so he stopped in his track, making Otabek stop too.

“Beka, I want to talk.”

“Alright.” Otabek agreed, turning to face the shorter man. He waited patiently for Yurio to find the words.

“I wrote about you in that final song, too.” Otabek stayed quiet, and Yurio let everything out in a flood of words. “I didn’t realise before just how much I l-like you, but then I realised and I couldn’t just keep it to myself. You need to know.” He gained more confidence, and locked eyes with Otabek. “I like you, Otabek. I can’t say love - we’ve only known each other for a month - but you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met and I want to work with you again, and again, and again. Please, let’s have a relationship outside of work.” The silence stretched on for what seemed like an eternity, before Otabek chuckled.

“Yura, I knew you liked me. I’ve known for about two weeks. You’re awful at hiding it.” Yurio tensed, feeling his face blush madly. “But, I’m glad you finally noticed. If you realised your own feelings, have you realised mine, too?” He asked, a gleam in his hazel oculars.

“What?” Yurio questioned. “Considering how you are to Mila, I thought you weren’t interested in a relationship.”

“No, Yura, I just don’t like Mila as anything more than a friend and a worker. But, I feel different with you. You’re interesting and fun. I would like to have a deeper relationship, too.”

“So, you like me back?”

“Yes.”

Yurio hadn’t the slightest idea what to do, so he smiled. “So, what do we do now? Are we meant to officially ask each other out?”

“I think the way we did it was fine.” Otabek said, taking one of Yurio’s hands in his. “How about we try something else.”

“Oh yeah?” Yurio smirked. “Like what?”

“Can I kiss you?” Otabek asked, leaning forwards a little.

“Don’t even bother asking.” Yurio tilted his head upwards, pulling Otabek forwards, and he relished the feeling as their lips met for the first time. Otabek’s lips were dry from the cool night air, but not unpleasant, and Yurio smiled into the kiss. They pulled away fairly quickly - it was their first kiss, after all.

“How was that?” Otabek asked, the corners of his lips lifting upwards. Yurio squeezed his hand.

“It was good.”

And so, they made their way back to the hotel, hands held tightly together, as the crescent moon’s light reflected onto the Themes, creating a milky galaxy within the water.

They would grow to love each other, Yurio was sure of it.


End file.
